Rajasthan

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Raj-tafarian times.

The trains to Rajasthan pushed the boundaries of tolerance. If they had been Irish or
British trains, I would surely have gone on a murderous rampage. The generally excellent
character of Indian trains kept this from occurring, the problem really being the amount of
time spent on board. We rode from Goa to Mumbai, Mumbai to Ahmedabad and Ahmedabad to Udaipur, with a short break in Mumbai. Fortunately, I slept well on the last train. We shared a cabin with two Swiss guys, and upon reaching Udaipur we teamed up with them and a girl from Nairobi, Mina. I had gotten a recommendation for a place to stay in Udaipur from Joe and Jill, a Canadian couple I met in Cape Town - in fact, they gave me names of places for all of Rajasthan. Many thanks, again, Joe and Jill. We rolled up to the Jheel Guest House, beside the beautiful lake, in a convoy of three auto-rikshaws. Mina had a LOT of luggage. The Jheel Guest House was unique; spotlessly clean, large, comfortable rooms with little balconies over the lake, and a special staff member. Rupa was a fantastically friendly and helpful guy, and further, a great cook. Not to mention that he was a close double for Bruce Campbell. On our first morning, I went for a walk while the others snoozed - they didn't sleep so well as I.

Udaipur was something special. A city built amongst several small lakes, it is clean and fresh. The breeze blowing through the hills is cooled as it passes over the lake, making the scintillating heat of Rajasthan a little more tolerable. In the first few minutes of my stroll, I found a place to get my head shaved and beard trimmed...and neck, shoulders, head and face massaged. The guy said I could just pay whatever I wanted as he had no customers that day. Likewise, a yoga studio I wondered into said we could come for a lesson and just leave whatever we wanted. Udaipur seemed to be less grabby and greedy than other places in India. I wandered further along the lakeside, taking in the old walls and temples. I found Rajasthan Gun Manufacturers, and had a walk around. They make antique style replica rifles to export to museums and collectors. I had a good look at their process and held the finished item. They were friendly guys, though without a word of English. Later, the guys joined me and we explored the other side of the river a little. We dined in a place called Bharti's, where Raju served up some tasty food. He also "diagnosed" me, by touching my hand; apparently I had neck and back issues, and "one testicle lower than the other". Pretty sure anyone asking about a massage is suffering back or neck issues. As for the testicle, I reckon he was full of shit. I didn't need to touch his hand to diagnose that.

In the evening, there was a display on at the temple just up the road. It was amazing: crowds, fireworks, drums. And candles - hundreds of them, all over the steps of the temple,
and at the bottom arranged in the shape of India. There were displays of ancient Indian
martial arts, handling fighting sticks, swords and an intricate weapon which looked like a
steering wheel with weights attached to ropes streaming from it. It looked simple enough in design, but took enormous strength to wield. After some impressive acrobatics and weapon displays, a man came out, blindfolded, hopping on one foot and carrying a knife in the toes of the other foot. One of the other chaps lay on the ground, while what looked like slices of apple or potato were places on his eyes, belly button and thighs. It took ten minutes; he made a lot of practice jabs; and I'm fairly sure the others were prompting him. However, I would not like to have been the dude on the ground while a blindfolded, hopping man, getting increasingly tired, kicked a knife towards my eyes, with only a thin slice of something to protect me.

The only low point of the day was when the Swiss guys informed me of the bombing in
Marrakech. While I was hanging out with Áine in South Africa, on 28th of April, some
filthy, low down, dogs of men, without the moral fibre of a newt, chose to explode a bomb
in the Argana café, a spot popular with tourists. 17 died, and over 20 were injured. I have
never hidden my disdain for religions, nor for violence, but these sick, cowardly pieces of
detritus are beyond even that. Islam is, unfortunately, open to the interpretation that
violence is required, but I do not blame Islam itself for these acts. It is merely the kind
of scum that does not deserve to be named as human that uses it as an indoctrination tool. Two wrongs don't make a right, but if the planners of this attack end up in pieces strewn across the desert, I won't shed a tear.

Regardless, we must carry on. Udaipur was proving lovlier by the second. Robert and I
visited the city palace, stopping on the way there to check out the local crafts. Udaipur
is particularly famous for producing miniatures, paintings on either wood, paper, silk or
camel bone (ivory having been outlawed). They are small, and usually feature camels (love), elephants (luck) or horses (power). Peacocks are also prominent. The quality varies
greatly; small, rough paintings on new paper can be obtained for as little as 100 Rupees,
whilst professional, fine works, using natural colours (such as lapis lazuli and iron
oxide) and gold leaf can fetch over 20,000 Rupees (300 Euro). The finest brushstrokes are painted using a brush made with a single hair from the tail of a squirrel. I bought several small items to send home. We made it out of the market, and into the city palace. It is a
magnificent space, clean and well maintained. Privately owned by the descendent of the
Mewar royal family, funding is not lacking. In fact, the prince still lives there, in a
private section. Huge, ornate gates are spaced along the approach to the palace, oriented
to catch the light at various times of day. The interior of the palace contains an
assortment of displays; among the finest were the armoury and the possessions of the
royals. The palace was layed out similarly to Arabic constructions (like the Alhambra in
Granada), with a complex yet flowing design, featuring many courtyards, levels and
balconies. Each space serves a function, such as administration, legal courts or
recreational areas for women - men and women led seperate lives in the old palaces. This
palace was more covered with friezes and paintings than any other we visited; these
intricate works told complete stories, and were among the earliest to feature perspective.

After the palace visit, we returned to Jheel for a cooking lesson. We learned to cook naan
and tukkar breads, as well as three popular dishes: Navrathan Kurma (fruits and nuts in a
creamy white curry), palak paneer (cottage cheese in spinach sauce) and stuffed tomato
curry (hollowed tomatoes filled with potato and spice masala, covered in a spicy tomato
sauce). We then made a desert - dried banana slices, covered with fried, crumbled biscuits,
covered again in chocolate sauce and honey, with ice cream on top. Stupidly rich, and it
took about 2 minutes to prepare. To hell with your cheesecake. It is always hot in the
kitchen in India, but this was made tolerable by being able to thoroughly enjoy what we had prepared afterward.

We did a little more shopping in the morning, then re-entered the palace area to take a
boat tour on the lake. Really, it just went to Jagmandir Island, but we got good pictures
along the way. Jagmandir itself is a former royal residence, a "city within the city",
completely isolated from land. It costs 440 euro per night to stay there. I have to say it
is grossly overpriced; while an attractive place, it is a little run-down in places, and
perfectly good guest houses in the city are available at a fraction of the price.
Another morning arrived, and we started it well - a yoga class. The guy leading it was not
exactly a stereotypical yogi; he wore a nike vest and a gold chain. He knew what he was
doing though, and we got a good stretch out and the first proper exercise in a while. We
spent a good part of the afternoon getting in contact with people - internet coverage had
been difficult before Udaipur - and then went to see the Monsoon Palace. The Monsoon Palace sits atop the highest hill around the city,with a commanding view of the area. It is a
little plain these days, having been stripped of most of the furniture and even doors;
further, graffiti stains many of the walls. You can still easily appreciate its grandure
though. At sunet, it is an incredible place. High enough to observe all the valleys, and to
enjoy a cooling wind, it is a lovely place to watch the day conclude. The evening included
yet another unmissable Udaipur experience: watching Octopussy. This Bond movie was filmed partly in Udaipur, and trying to spot locations that we had visited was fun. he film itself is kitch nonsense, but entertaining all the same. That was our last night in Udaipur, and we took the bus to Jodhpur the next day. Udaipur was a gem, unusually clean and peaceful. Oh, it was still India - cows roaming free, unattended dogs, beggars - but somehow, still a respite.

It was a long trip to Jodhpur, made all the longer by the bus drivers recklessness and
fondness for the horn. After 6 long hours, we arrived and checked into the Govind Hotel. It
was nice and clean, and served good food...albeit slowly. It also had a great view of
Jodhpur fort, an imposing and almost supernatural looking structure atop a gigantic rock.
Perhaps the best thing about the Govind was that a nearby shop sold bourbon creme biscuits! Awesome. Jodhpur was quite like the image of India I had before arriving - hot, dusty, crowded, dirty. Ancient tuk-tuks and motorbikes fill every cubic centimeter of air with acrid smoke. They first considered installing sewers in 2008, and have not completed the project yet. That is not to say that one should not visit Jodhpur. It has an Arabic layout
in the old part of town, quite like Moroccan souks, difficult to navigate and filled with
cheap tat of all varieties. The bazaars are huge and overwhelming to each of the senses;
but a bottomless source of wonder. Above all, the fort is something beyond compare. As you approach it in your rikshaw, the winding road gives you multiple views of the walls. I can only imagine that, as an attacker, morale would swiftly head towards the crawling quietly away side of the scale. Before visiting the fort though, we went to see a Jaswant Thada cenotaph. This momument was built for Maharaja Jaswant Singh II. Unfortunately, it was closed - but I decided to walk along the outer walls. They followed the contours of the
rock beneath, and led to some fantastic views of the city. The old town walls are painted
blue, giving the town an ethereal quality when seen all together. When I reached the back
of the monument, I hopped in for a little look - one sleeping security guard out front, no
problem. After a few sneaky snaps, I walked around the third corner and back towards the
rikshaw parking. Unfortunately, the fourth corner was in water - no way around it. As I
started to head back, I noticed some nearby movement. In a pit a little downhill from the
walls, around 8 dogs were standing up and heading in the direction I wanted to go. Another appeared suddenly beside me, growling and then howling to the others. I walked past him, shouting and stamping to make him back off, and hopped the wall into the monument again. They followed to the wall, but didn't enter. I had to walk out past the security guard - now awake - and explain that I had been chased by wild dogs. Luckily, he didn't ask to see my photos. The cenotaph was a little bland, but the dogs made it a lively evening.

The fort visit was something I had looked forward to immensely. Sitting in the town below,
attempting to contain my enthusiasm for when we actually went, I was bursting. And it did
not disappoint. Perhaps the most impressive structure architecturally, if not artistically,
that we have seen in India, Jodhpur fort is a testament to the accomplishments of old
India, and those of humanity itself. The huge walls measure over 36m in places, and 21m
wide; the tops of the ramparts are wide enough to accomodate cannon and cavalry. Imagine attacking the fort: surviving the enfilade of artillery, surviving the archers, surviving the rocks, boiling oil and pikes of defenders, you scale the wall - only to be charged by the cavalry. However, a forts main vulnerability was not the walls, but the door. Elephants were used to ram through the large wooden doors of forts, so this fort was designed with countermeasures: iron spikes at elephant head height, and 90 degree turns before each door, so an elephant could not get a fast run going to ram it. Any army turning that corner would also expose its flanks to counterattack. The defensive measures worked: the fort was never captured, though it was besieged for 6 months on one occasion. Inside the fort is a system of courtyards and balconies typical of Indian construction of the time. These also contributed to the defence of the fort, sitting at different levels and connected by narrow passages. Despite their functionality, they are stunningly beautiful. Intricate plasterwork and detailing adorn every surface; no single space is undecorated. Shrubs and greenery are also commonplace, belying the arid region surrounding the fort. Water was supplied by a system of five wooden wheels on the outer wall. The old rooms inside the fort have been restored, and are used to display old royal paraphernalia such as palinquins, howdah (elephant seats) and the personal swords and rifles of rulers.

It was a brief visit to Jodhpur, and after visiting the fort we boarded a night train to
Jaisalmur, the last town before the desert and the Pakistan border, in north west India.
Robert had never been on a camel safari before, and while I had, I enjoyed the Moroccan one so much I decided to join him. We arrived in Jaisalmur at 5am, and made a mistake.
Attribute it to tiredness, or to foolishness, but when Robert suggested going along with
someone who had boarded the train offering cheap accomodation, I went along. From the
minute we got in the jeep, I had a bad feeling about the guy. It's not that we were in any
danger; two 6 footers each weighing at least double the average Indian man will always be
fairly ok. It is simply that the touts will always make you uncomfortable, always try to
extract every last Rupee, always try to con, cheat or steal from you. After going to the
hotel and confronting this guy on several of his lies (hotel 4 months old - lie; 1000
visitors per month - mathematically impossible), I walked out. We went instead to the
Golden City hotel, listed in the Lonely Planet and recommended by someone we had met.
There, at least, we had a chance of getting a good camel safari. As it turned out, it was
fairly mediocre - I shudder to think what we would have ended up with had we gone with the
touts tour.

Jaisalmur is hot, and very much a frontier town. It expanded in the 1970's when border
fighting with Pakistan forced several villages to flee here. It's streets, where there were
streets, were in disrepair; supplies were short; everything was old or reused. People even
lived in the old fort, using it like another part of town. The damage they have caused to
it, including causing it to subside due to leaking pipes, is irreperable. The havelis
within the fort are still worth a visit, and getting to the walls allows - again - for
great pictures of the town. We visited the lake in Jaisalmur as well. It is a little bit
dried up now, as Monsoon has not arrived yet, but we were still able to take a pedlow out
to some of the temples on the water. Early in the morning, we set out for our camel trek.
The tour began with a drive to some local sites of importance, like a royal garden and -
much more interestingly - an abandoned town where fighting with Pakistan occurred in 1971. It was around 50k from the border. Then we boarded the camels and set off into the desert. Well, I say desert...we were never more than 10 minutes from a road, and our view was consistently spoiled by wind turbines. Only at the very end did we reach actual dunes, and they were surrounded by more turbines and roads. Nonetheless, it was quite peaceful. A wind between the dunes kept us cool, though irritatingly blew sand everywhere - all night. We slept between sheets on the side of a dune, enjoying the stars and the moon. In the
morning, and with even our ears full of sand, we headed back for town. A bit disappointing,
and not so comfortable, but not so expensive, a Thar desert camel trek is a good way to
kill a day and have a new experience. Robert certainly had an experience in the desert: he
spilled hot chai on his foot and got a very nasty scalding. Hot chai is delicious, but
dangerous...

The following day, and after a thorough and sand removing shower, we hopped on the train to Jaipur. Jaipur was very modern in places, and definitely more wealthy than some previous locations. It was another early arrival - 04:50 - so we just got to the Vinayak guest house (another Joe and Jill rec) and crashed out. The Vinayak was lovely - clean, nice
atmosphere, and great staff. Raman, whose father owned the guesthouse, was a gracious host. When we emerged from our nap, we headed over to see the fort in the middle of town. This one, unfortunately, was privately owned and occupied, and not open to the public. Further, the nearby temple was closed. We decided on walking to the Ram Niwas gardens instead. This green space was not in fantastic shape, but it was still a shady place to relax. After lounging, we got lunch at a place called Chawla's on Fashion Street. A huge, tasty and cheap thali (assortment of vegetables and sauces, served with different chapati and naan). We retired early, resolving to start early in the morning.

Which didn't happen. Everything in India is Shanti Shanti...slow and relaxed. No point
rushing around in 50 degree heat now, is there? We went to see the monkey temple, an
impressive construction in an even more impressive location. I had been slightly concerned
about the monkeys, given that some of them had been aggressive in Africa. These were,
however, completely passive and disinterested. That made for good viewing; they just did
whatever they wanted. They were scampering up and down walls, scrapping playfully in the
water and munching on the rice and peanuts that some people left for them. The temple
itself is reached by climbing a steep hill, then descending another. It is located in a
roughly bowl shaped depression, set amongst mountains. The rough, desolate hillside and
narrow views of green through the surrounding valleys make for a very peaceful area. On the way down the hill was a small temple to Hanuman, the monkey god of Hinduism. He is always depicted as being powerful and strong. Inside the temple, I recieved a bindi (orange ink on the forehead), a jasmin flower necklace and a red and orange bracelet. The brahmin (priest) then suggested I should donate 1000 Rupees. He got 100. In the temple is a rock, roughly weathered into the shape of a chest and arm. They have drawn a head above the chest and a sceptre in the hand; it is said to be the body of Hanuman. It was well worth a visit, and had we come earlier I would have spent more time watching the monkeys with a friendly Hari Krishna guy who had invited me to chant with him when I arrived.

We didn't do much after the temple; the city palace looked a bit sterile, and the
observatory (built for astrologers, not astronomers) was too expenise for what it was.
There was an exciting event that evening though: a total lunar eclipse. The viewing was
almost perfect, with a few tiny, transient clouds the only obstruction. The eclipse began
at 23:53. We watched the small, dark bump of the shadow of Earth wash over the surface of the moon, until the whole thing was a dull yellow glow. As time went on, the moon faded
almost completely. It began to be revealed again at about 03:30, but we did not wait up to
see it. Apparently, the Hindu brahmin stay up all night during a lunar eclipse praying to
avert disaster; it is a bad sign. We woke late, again, and went to the Amber Palace. It is
about 11k from Jaipur, but worth the bone-shaking rikshaw ride. On the whole, it was not so different from some of the other old India architecture we had visited, though perhaps
better preserved. Two features were, however, outstanding. There was a terrace, covered
with columns and arches, which had been marked for destruction by the early Mughal
conquerors. They had heard of its unrivalled beauty, and wanted to destroy it as a
demonstration of authority. When they arrived at the Amber palace, the workers there had
covered it in cheap plaster. The Mughals were deceived, thinking it was cheap rubbish, and left it intact. Years later its original splendour was uncovered. The second extraordinary building was the mirror palace. I had seen other mirror palaces, but none so wonderful as this. It was almost emotional to walk around it. The clean, white, marble surface is inlaid with tens of thousands of pieces of mirror, as well as silver and precious stones. In between are floral patters. The roof is beyond description. To think of the people that created this, and to run your hands along the walls where they did the same hundreds of years ago, is quite some experience.

This marked the end of our Rajasthan odyssey; we took an early train to Agra, which is in Uttar Pradesh, the next state to the east. Agra is home to the Taj Mahal, and close to Delhi. Rajasthan is a unique place. It is home to more temples, forts, palaces, royal residences
and just plain history than than you could shake a cermeonial stick at. It is the remainder
of an older, stronger India, where Rajputs and Mughals fought, and never surrendered; where rulers were benevolent and terrible; when grand projects such as the forts were achievable, if only through sheer force of will. The power and confidence of old India is concentrated here. The modern world is encroaching more and more on to this area, as in all of India. It would be nice to see India sort itself out a little, in so many ways: traffic, crime,
sexism, education, corruption and a tremendously stupid caste system could all do with some examination. The touts, hawkers and drug pushers could do with a bit of reigning in.
However, something that needs immediate attention is the preservation and promotion of
Indias historic sites and sights. The entire state of Rajasthan could be turned into a
preserve, so much is there to experience. Tourism, as usual, both helps and hinders this
aim. I reccommend a visit to Rajasthan to everyone, but I suggest doing it in a minimum
impact way; don't buy from pushy touts, don't buy drugs, don't give to beggars, don't add
to the ubiquitous litter and try not to damage any of the older, crumbling places you
visit.

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