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Published: December 10th 2007
Since our last blog we have been on a tour of Rajastan. We left Pushkar on the night bus to Bikaner. There were two night buses leaving Pushkar at about the same time, one to Bikaner and one to Jaisalmer. We had been debating which of the two cities to visit next. There were lots of tourists gathered at the bus station, but when the Bikaner bus turned up we were the only ones to get on, so we knew then we had made the right decision.
While in Pushkar we had befreinded a local rickshaw driver called Dilip. He came to the bus station to wait with us and see us off, which was very sweet of him. The night bus was an experience. we had booked sleeper seats, which means you get a double bed berth located above the seats. When the bus arrived it was full and our berth was right at the back. Also there was no room in the boot for our backpacks so we had to take them on the coach, which would have been ok if it hadnt been for all the people sleeping on the floor. Once we had weaved our way across the bodies and heaved our bags and bodies into the bunk, the journey wasnt too bad although a bit bumpy.
After the commercialisation of Pushkar, Bikaner was a peaceful place to stay. It seems that most tourists get bused into the fort and palace and then leave, probably as a stopover on the way to Jaisalmer. Not many tourists stay over-night, which is a shame because the old city is a nice place to walk around.
Bikaner is a desert city in Northern Rajastan, originaly built around an oasis (which sadly is now a rather polluted lake). We spent the first couple of days just wandering around and exploring the old city, which has a number of attractive old havelis (merchants houses). The people were very welcoming. We had a glimpse of how the royal family must feel, the number of times we were stopped to shake hands and asked where we were from. (We are asked this several times each day and we have taken to telling people England rather than the UK, because on a couple of occasions the response to 'the UK' was ' the Ukraine'?). The kids in particular would stop and ask 'one pen one ruppee'. When we told them 'sorry no pen' they just ran away giggling. There was one particularly nice moment walking around the city. As we passed a shop selling stainless steel kitchenware, a young guy asked us the usual question "what country are you from'. When we told him England he called to his father sitting in the shop. The father said 'ah England - a very royal country, you are very welcome in India'. We explained we were not royalty, although from the sight of us (me in particular, as I have had neither a shave or a haircut for three months) I am sure he guessed. He then invited us to have a cup of chai ( a sweet milky tea) and as we were leaving insisted on giving us a small gift of two steel tumblers. Sadly we find it difficult to imagine a similair generosity of spirit being extended to a foreign visitor in an English high street.
Still, there are some things you cannot fault the English for, like mild eccentricity and a spirit of adventure. A couple we met in Bikaner exhibited both characteristics. On our last day in the city we decided to see the palace and the city fort. We visited the palace first; a pleasant building completed about 1920, although inside was just a collection of photographs of the Maharaja and his family, showing him slaughtering various endangered species, mainly tigers, and pictures of him with the great and good of his era such as Lord and Lady Mountbatten. So pretty dull stuff. However, there was a pleasant courtyard where we took lunch. After a while another English couple, a few years older than us, asked if they could sit at our table. At first we took them for regular tourists, but it turned out that they were on an adventure that makes our year away seem pretty tame. Penny and Brian were living a conventional life in Dulwich but had become despondent about life in Britain. We asked why. They said there were many reasons, but the one thing they were particularly animated about was 'Tony Blair taking us into the war in Iraq'. So they decided to sell up, buy a large Land Rover and drive to India with their three dalmation dogs. Their drive had taken them through Europe, Turkey, Iran and Pakistan. There have recently been some kidnappings of European tourists in southern Iran, so they had to get a police escort, both through southern Iran and Pakistan. In Pakistan they were only allowed to sleep in police stations for their own safety. They crossed into India at Amritsar and were slowy making their way south to Kerala, where they planned to buy a house and settle permanently.
As we left the Palace they offered to give us a lift to the fort. We climbed into their land rover along with the three dogs (who had been allowed to roam the palace grounds looking for scraps of food). Penny started to map read, but admitted that she was not very good at directions. Also, it turned out that Brian, who was driving, was quite deaf. We began to wonder how they had made it to India (or perhaps that wasnt the plan when they started it was just where they sort of ended up). We turned off a main road into a side street, hearing a policeman whistle as we did so. After a while Penny seemed lost so we stopped to ask the way. We were told we were going the wrong way down a one way street (hence the whistle, although the policeman clearly wasnt that bothered about stopping us, probably thought that we will find out eventually). Anyway, armed with the knowledge we were going the wrong way, Penny told Brian to keep going, adding that we will probably find a turning somewhere. Soon the road started to narrow and progress in the land rover was getting more difficult. We came to a junction. There was a simple left/right choice, so penny told Brian to go left. Which we immediately realised was the wrong choice. By now, the land rover was blocking the whole road, facing a stream of auto-rickshaws hooting wildly. We were soon surrounded by a crowd of people who exhibited a range of emotions, ranging from mild amusement at seeing four English people, plus three spotty dogs, in this predicament, to pretty angry. Several others were just trying to get a look at the dogs. Many were gesticulating, shouting and rather helpfully telling us we had to turn around. Brian kept very cool (we guessed this wasnt the first time they had been in this sort of situation) and started to back up, but of course the road behind was full of people so it was very slow going. While this was going on, Penny was busy telling the dogs not to growl but smile at the nice people outside. We eventually managed to get backed up and heading down a two way road, but of course, by now none of us had any idea where we were going and road signs in India are few and far between. We eventually made the fort, about an hour and a half after setting off and going back past the palace at least once. So we have no idea how Penny and Brian managed to make it as far as Bikaner, or if they are going to make it to Kerala, but you have to admire their spirit.
After Bikaner we took the train to Jaipur where we connected with a train to Kota in Southern Rajastan. (When we boarded the train at Bikaner, the guard came through to check our tickets. Seeing that Dee and I were clearly foreign visitors, his face beamed and he shook us both warmly by the hand to welcome us onto the train. Of course, as we travel by train quite a bit back home, we were used to this type of welcome). We had a few hours to kill in Jaipur so we returned to the Pearl Palace to chill in their restuaruant for a few hours. On leaving we bumped into our friend Raj, who we mentioned in our last blog. We promised him we would publish his mobile number on this site, in case anybody reading it is traveling to Jaipur (he really is a good guide so its well worth getting in touch with him). We will post his number as comment on the blog site. (Also, if you are reading this - hi Raj).
Kota has an attractive and rarely visited medieval palace. Our stay was fairly uneventful, apart from one chap who was passing us on a motor cycle. He stopped and asked us where we were from (again!). Hearing 'England', he stepped off his bike, and started to embrace us, planting a couple of really wet smackers on Dee's face. (He also bowed down to touch our knees, which seemed to be going a bit far). Clearly he liked the English, although he did smell of drink so this may have accounted for his over excuberance.
While we were in Kota we heard a sad story from an Indian lady who started talking to us one morning in the hotel. It turned out that she was the wife of the owner. She came originally from Gujarat and when she finished her college education, her parents arranged a marriage for her. She was married into a wealthy but very conservative family in Kota. As is the custom, once married the bride lives with her in-laws. Her father in law insisted that she be kept in purdah, and for the best part of twenty years she was hardly allowed to leave the house, apart from occasional visits to her parents. Only once her father in law died did she get any freedom. The family opened the hotel a few years back and this gave her an outlet to meet people and ease her loneliness. She explained that despite being very unhappy in her marriage, she wouldnt seek a divorce because this would have brought shame on her family and made it difficult for her younger sisters to find a husband. The system of arranged marriages in India is stacked against women, who can be subjected to quite cruel treatment, although this woman seemed to be imprisoned as much by her sense of duty as by her husband's family.
After Kota we took a taxi to nearby Bundi, a small relatively unspoilt town built around a small lake in the hills of Southern Rajastan. It was almost like stepping into the middle ages. The town is dominated by a large fort set on a hill overlooking the town. By chance our stay in Bundi coincided with the annual Bundi festival. This is where the Rajastani in-crowd move to after the Pushkar fair. The town was alive with music and parades and we had a very enjoyable stay.
Leaving Bundi, we took an overnight train to Chittaurgarth, where we stayed one day before taking a connection to Udaipur. Our visit was not very pleasant. We arrived at 6am and went to the hotel where we had booked a room. As we walked in with our back-packs the man behind the reception desk took one look at us and said 'no'. '
- 'We have booked a room for the night'
-'No!'
- 'We have, we called last week'
- 'No - no room available till someone checks out'
-' oh ok, now we understand. Well can we leave our bags here while we find some breakfast?'
-'No!'
So, having been made to feel a wanted customer, we looked around for somewhere else. We were pretty tired so we took a room in the first place that looked reasonable. Unfortunately, although we had a quick look at the room, it turned out to be a bit of a dump. We should have looked more closely, but by the time we realised how dirty it was we had already paid for the night, so we had to put up with it. Apart from the grime on the bathroom walls, we noticed lots of beatle type bugs walking around on the floor. The bed sheets had clearly not been cleaned since the last person stayed in the room (it was the pubic hairs on the sheets that gave it away) and there seemed to be a whiff of stale urine in the room. The best thing to do was to get out for the day, so we decided to go to the Chittaugarth fort. We found a rickshaw driver who offered to give us a one day tour of the fort and all of its palaces (the fort is 5km in length, so you need a rikshaw to get around it). He seemed a pleasant enough chap, chatting about his family etc. He dropped us off at the first palace and said we should meet him again in about 45 mins. When we met him again his personality had changed. He was slurring his speech and looked drowsy and was a little abrupt, so he had clearly taken something, probably booze. So great - we were stuck with a drunk rickshaw driver, who to get us back to our hotel had to negotiate a steep hill with a couple of hairpin bends. He got us back in one piece, but drove just like a drunk, taking everything very carefully and slowly.
Our train from Chittaugarth to Udaipur left at 5am. We couldnt wait to get out of the hotel and on our way. We arrived a couple of hours later. This time, the hotel was wonderful. We were given the choice of two rooms, a perfectly acceptable room for 400rps a night, or a delux room overlooking the lake for 1200rps (15 GBP) a night. The latter meant breaking our budget, but we figured that after spending a night in a filthy room that stunk of piss, we deserved something nice, so we took it. Udaipur is described in our guidebook as one of the most romantic cities in India and we have to agree. The city is built around a couple of large lakes, the main one (lake Pichola) having the summer palace 'adrift like a snowflake' in the centre (this is the guidebook's description - we cant claim credit for such poetic language!). Our hotel looked over the lake and in the evenings we could sip a cold beer, watching the lake change colour while the sun slipped out of view. A great place to stay and we wished we had stayed longer, but we had tickets booked so we had to move on!
Next was Mount Abu, Rajastan's only hill station. The town is about 3.5 thousand feet above sea level, so at this time of year it gets cold, particularly at night. Its the first time so far on our trip that we have really been glad we each bought a woollen top. The main thing to do in Mount Abu is walking the hills and we booked onto a one day walk with four other people following the 'Tiger Trail'. Of course, there are no tigers left, these having all been shot years ago by the Maharajas. The walk did however offer the promise of other widlife, including bears, panthers, foxes, and cobras so it sounded potentially quite exciting. The reality was rather different. Our guide, probably trying to raise the adrenalin level, pointed out several different types of animal faeces. We saw bear shit and fox shit. Fascinating. At one point we were told that a particular pile of poo had been left 'only last night' by a bear. We were thinking of perhaps leaving something for the bears to find the next night.
Mount Abu was fun. We met a great group of people also staying in the same hotel and were again sorry to leave.
We are now in Jodphur, which is our last stop in Rajastan (we leave tonight). The main attarction in Jodphur is the impossing fort that over-shadows the city. However, we are really sick of looking at forts (and palaces and temples) so we have not visited it. Instead we have spent our time generally hanging out (doing quite a bit of painting) and enjoying the old city. We found a really good spice shop that exports to the UK and also provides free recepies over the internet, which Dee has signed up for (note for the kids - if you get invited for a curry when we get home make sure you eat well first!). Having bought a selection of spices we were offered a cup of tea by the young lady who runs the shop. While waiting for the tea to arrive, she asked me if I wanted to try some Indian Viagra. Bloody hell do I look that old. (I thought I'll show you who needs viagra darling, but Dee was with me so perhaps not).
So thats our tour of Rajastan pretty much over. Later we take the night train (hopefully our fellow passengers wont snore too much) to Jalgoan in Maharashtra, from where we will visit the Buddist paintings in the caves at Ajanta. We then have a few days in Mumbai, which we are really looking forward to.
Take care everyone and we will be in touch soon.
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Adam Weekes
non-member comment
3 months of beard growth?
HiĀ all sounds very interesting. Have you really not had a shave for three months? Your beard must be pretty full now. God bless adam