Leaving Pushkar

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I had a taxi booked for 12pm to Ajmer where I was to catch my 7hr bus to Udaipur at 1pm. By 12.25 there is no sign and I start to panic. The cabby eventually arrives at 12.35 and we head off at breakneck speeds through Pushkar and out on the same mountain pass I took on the scooter. My driver is insane. I've become largely used to the Indian driving style but this is by far the most terrifying journey I've taken to date. So much so that I find myself actually changing the position of my legs whilst thinking about the best way they could be broken during the crash that I am fully anticipating. Regardless, the cabby gets me there in one piece and the bus too is running on Indian time so it's still at the station when I arrive. I throw my bags into the back and hop aboard. I am shown to my sleeper capsule. The heavy scent of thick dust hits my nostrils and a begin to cough uncontrollably as people push by me in the narrow corridor. I cringe at the thought of spending the next 7-8hours in this tomb but have little choice so I clamber up and wrap my scarf around my face whilst trying not to breath too deeply.



There have been just one or two occasions when I have felt a little down in india, and sometimes a tiny bit lonely but this was the first time I had experienced anger at this nation. And it really did feel like anger. Angry that I couldn't at any point feel that my bags were safe in the trunk as we stopped in some questionable areas where bags were added and taken away. Angry at the fact that the driver took his sweet time at every opportunity, stopping to drink chai or puff on a cigarette that he often then brought onto the bus with him. Angry at the state of my sleeping compartment and the state of this country generally. India could be such a wonderfully, beautiful country but instead its inhabitants defecate, piss, spit, vomit and throw all conceivable waste all over it. This is the environment within which they have to live and they choose to decimate it gradually; polluting it's rivers, adding constantly to the filth of its city streets and leaving me coughing and unable to breath in this dust filled matchbox. I pull the screen across to block the stoney stares and read my book. I calm myself by looking through the many many images I've captured of daily Indian life. The glorious colour and life that is conveyed in every shot brings me back to calm. It's just different, so very different, to what we are used to in our clean, safe, sterile lives. The moment of anger passes and I love it again.



I arrive into Udaipur with a banging on my compartment and a shout of 'last stop madam, last stop'. I throw my stuff together and leave in a flap hoping I've not forgotten anything. I am so relieved to see my bags still in the trunk. I grab them and jump in the first rickshaw I see. I've been dropped off in the dark, beneath a railway bridge in what looks like the dodgy end of town. But then, in India, you can never tell.



I'm overcharged at 250Rs to go just 20mins but am relieved to still be in one piece. I'm dumped with all my bags at the bottom of a hill and proceed to walk. It's at this point that I truly regret all that shopping in Pushkar but am aided by a second rickshaw driver that happened to be hanging around at the bottom of the hill. I find that my sickness and the heavy dust from the bus ride has weakened my lungs and I struggle to breathe.



I make it to the hostel and love it instantly. In the old part of the town, I have to bang on a huge iron door to get in. I'm greeted by Farheen who shows me to my room. The driver who helped me dumps my bags, gives me his number for city tours and disappears after first asking if I am married. I am. Farheen has short hair and wears a baggy jumper and jogging pants. I'm not entirely sure which gender she belongs to until I meet Rizwan, who introduces her as his sister. The hostel is run by a kind Muslim family. It's late but he is happy to make me some dinner. The cheese and tomato pasta is not very Indian but It is a welcome change.



I sleep very badly again due to coughing and more paranoia in the night. I wake up frantic that I have contracted some horrible tropical disease as my symptoms are strange ones that I have never had before. I text and email my mum for reassurance. I get It and go back to sleep and the next day feel ridiculous. I have had several occassions now where I have woken during the night in a state and am beginning to think that these people are putting something a bit funky in the tea. I ask Rizwan at breakfast and he mentions that Indian basil is sometimes added and this can have an effect on the mind but it usually just light headedness. I decide to steer clear of the masala chai for the time being.



I take a walk down to the local bazaar and meet a man called Ali who looks about a hundred years old. He and his family make leather bound books. I'm so taken with them that I buy 12 and wonder later how I will carry them. After managing to stay out of the many shops on the way I arrive at the City Palace of Udaipur. It's like a fairy tale castle sat above a huge reflecting lake with beautiful architecture and it's so clean. In fact all of Udaipur is more clean than anywhere I've been in India so far.



After the rigmarole of buying my ticket (they have three windows for ticket sales, one is just for the palace, one is just for the boat ride and the third just seems to be occupied by a man that waves you away to one of the other windows), I walk through the City Palace and down to the waters edge. There is the usual haze that sits over indian cities but here is feels more natural and less toxic. It adds to the feeling of mystery that Udaipur holds, and the palace, in particular. Well dressed guards guide me in the right direction as I pass through courtyards and gardens and huge archways. The sun is warm and the day is yellow, enhanced by the stone used in the construction of the palace.



The water is calm and the atmosphere peaceful. A few men sit around near the lake and gently point me in the right direction. I arrive at the boat to find tourists from all corners sitting and waiting for their boat. I join them. This feels like the most 'touristy' thing I have done since I arrived here but I don't care, it's wonderful. The quiet him of the engine, the wonderful architecture, the patchwork collage of different coloured building built almost on top of each other, the way the falling sun hits the walls and bounces the light back into my lens. I take many photos. We pass by the floating palace where one of the James Bond movies was filmed. And eventually stop at one of the island hotels for a walk around. These floating buildings are fantastic, they sit just above the waters edge and are, of course, not floating but do very much appear to be.



I have an Indian cooking class booked for the evening so I slowly wander back through the bazaar and try to find the house. I arrive at Rajni's home where she tells me she has been running cooking classes for 9years and is recommended by Lonely Planet. Two American girls arrive; Shane and Helen from San Francisco. Shane is the most over enthusiastic person I've ever met and is excited about everything I have to say, it's all a bit false but I love her! Helen has a voice like chocolate, very calm and collected. We roll some chapatti but apart from that Rajni does all the cooking and we just take notes. We get to sample the food as we go along and take it in turns to swat, flick and mush the many cockroaches that have made this kitchen their home. The food was great and Rajni is a lovely woman. We met most of her family and her grandson, little Jay, is incredibly precocious at just 2years old. We eat together and head back in the dark through the winding streets of old town Udaipur. We take the long way around so as to avoid the fairly rabid looking dog we had seen earlier in the day. I say good night to the girls and goodbye as they leave for Jodhpur early in the morning.

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