Gwalior: young and quirky

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My last night in Agra was like the first: loud, mostly sleepless, power outage, hot and humid. Glad to leave and discover new things.

Again the Shatabdi Express in the morning. Destination Gwalior. I had a nice seat in a well-ACed car. I got distracted from my reading by the sudden change in landscape. The usual rice fields had given way to a hilly succesion of gorges and valleys with peaks distrubed only on the horizon by brick-oven smokestacks. It was like a 1:1000 scale model of the Himalayas. It was carpeted here and there by fields that could only be harvested by hand. A little hut here, a cow there and the wilderness in between.

Your first impression of a city over here happens when you're assaulted by rickshaw drivers at the station. Also, it doesn't help when you're pushed back inside the train car by the crowd wanting to climb inside. Overall, it was a very bad first impression. I checked into the Hotel DM where the manager has probably a higher opinion of his English skills than he actually has. The room seems nice, especially since it has a TV. If awake at night, I'll know what to do.

I must have shed quite a few pounds since I got here. It's a weight-watchers combination of vegetarian food, walking and hellishly scorching weather. It's been 30 degrees centrigrade since I arrived in India and it's pretty tough to get around. It doesn't help when you need to prepare a layer cake of sunscreen and mosquito repellent every 4 hours. Speaking of "MOS-QUEEE-TOS", that's a word I've heard a lot lately because of people pointing out the constellation of red dots on my milky left ankle. 9 bites exactly. None anywhere else. It totally baffles me that mosquitoes have picked that exact spot for their own shot of bloody goodness.

First location to visit: Mohammed Ghaus' Tomb in the middle of Old Town Gwalior. I was a bit apprehensive because it was free and my previous visit to a free Tomb didn't go so well (in Fatehpur Sikri). A few stares here and there and a lot of hellos. I let my guard down and decided on trying to be in a good modd for a change. Good karma for me. The old men and little kids at the Tomb were nice enough to tell me how to behave inside: no shoes but keep your cap on. All around are other tombs and graves, well-kept inside a garden that's open for praying, sleeping, hanging out and working on your math apparently. Either that or you can attach a copy of your exam papers on the walls of the tomb for good luck (quite a few). I left with a smile on my face that I probably haven't lost since.

Are you a foodie? Then Old Town is not a place for you. Neither if you're thristy because it took me 30 minutes to find a soda/bottled water seller. This is definitely not a very touristy area. I ended up in the restaurant owned and operated by Mr. Sharma. I had a thali on a well-intentioned dirty table, inside the modestly filthy restaurant. Little Anandia Sharma (I think that's her name) kept a shy distance as I munched on the dal thali with chapati. By the way, at that point, my right shoe stank of fresh cow dung, the green kind. That's what you get when you look around rather than ahead.

I was hoping the heat had stabilized. It got worse. The sun got meaner by the hour, which doesn't help when your next project is to climb the Gwalior Fort. No shade, no road, no mercy. On the way up, I pass a couple who got caught smooching by the girl's older brother. Busted.

The palace on the top of the hill is of red stone and used to be covered in turquoise blue tiles depicting elephants, tigers and ducks. The ducks are still visible, in a freize along the outside wall. Quirky sign of things to come. The palace has two courtyards, and two underground storeys filled with bats in what used to be a stone swimming pool for the queen and princess.

I made my way to the hilltop Hindu temples with the best view of the city, taking the opportunity to monkey around on the fort walls and play a bit with my video camera (thank you tripod!). The trek to the Hindu temples is worth it, you might also get bullied by a cow just as I did. Easy fella... Easy...

The other temple on the other side of the fort is like one big pinecone pointing up to the heavens. There's nothing inside but the sculptures on the outside are worth a pic or two. Sunscreen and mosquito repellent pit stop.

I went the opposite way down the fort, on the West side, so that I could see the imposing cliff-side statues. Some were chopped faceless by the invading Muslims but others have had makeovers. The skills of the original sculptors were left unmatched as there's definitely a touch of Botox disaster for some of them.

Arvin the rickshaw driver spent the whole trip toward the Jai Vilas palace talking about the meaning of love and life. Friendly guy but I wished he had spent more time watching the road rather than my sweaty face in the mirror. I've been a bit more flexible on the Tom-the-Canadian routine as I've only had positive vibes and namastes from the people so far.

The Jai Vilas Palace is home to the ruling Scindia family. Immaculate white and vaguely colonial in style, it houses the Scindia Museum. Outrageously overpriced by cheekily worth every Rupee. Some rooms smell of exotic opulence, others have a bunch of quirky European furniture. A full room is devoted to His Reverence the last Scindia ruler with pictures (Hey, there's me with Castro! There's me with Saddam!), trophies and memorabilia. The indoor swimming pool seems out of place, so do the stuffed tigers. Cherry on the cake: the man reception hall with humongous chandeliers (not one, but two!) and the silver model train used to bring wine to thirsty guests around the long table.

I decided to walk to the internet cafe when I sensed the rickshaw driver waiting outside the palace was up to no good. Great idea! I bumped into curious kids who stopped their bikes to chat a bit and felt like a pageant queen from all the waving.

I ended up into a clean and quiet garden, around a giant pool with powerful fountains. I became Mr. Nice guy and posed for photos with friendly kids around the park, feeding the fish and walking out of the way of sweaty bench carriers (closing for the day I presume). One kid told me it was Gwalior's "lover's garden".

After this, I'm plannng to head to the nearest vegetarian restaurant to close the Gwalior chapter on a succulent but not too spicy note.

Daily nugget: the screen of this computer has been written on by most probably a not so computer-literate person. It's got numbers and letters and brushes of pen that seem to be attempts to write something off.

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