Advertisement
Published: January 25th 2011
Edit Blog Post
Of course this attitude exists the world over but nowhere have I seen it more evident than in India. Some rules are obviously upheld such as refraining from taking ‘hand-grenades … spear guns … swords’ as carry-on luggage onto an internal flight, as we noted from the list of prohibited items at security in both Jaipur and Udaipur airports. Strangely, drinking water is allowed as carry-on but you must take two glugs in front of the security officer! Traffic rules are widely-flouted as ‘otherwise, no-one would ever get anywhere’ according to Singh our driver in Delhi (the second visit), as are those about spitting in public and dropping litter … Those in and around the toilets on the trains (here we go again) are the best or worst though; ENSURE THE TOILET FLOOR IS LEFT CLEAN AND DRY … hmm, and then outside PASSENGERS ARE REMINDED THAT THEY MUST NOT STARE AT LONE FEMALE PASSENGERS. Singh had warned us that New Delhi railway station would be a testing place for us to wait an hour and a half for our sleeper to Varanasi. He was right … we sat on our bags (he had warned us that they could well be
stolen), and tried to avoid eye contact with anyone (another of his tips) … this was very tricky for D and E especially who had a lot of unwarranted attention. Emily’s cheeks are sore from all the pinching, and even William was given a head-rub by a teenage Indian girl on the train, who was obviously taken by his blue eyes and sandy-blond hair. We have been amazed at how few tourists we have seen, especially Europeans and particularly children which has made us something of local celebrities wherever we have been. A quick trip to the swimming pool in the hotel in Varanasi almost brought the place to a standstill; it was 28 degrees and Diana and I were sweating, fully-dressed, but the staff and guests all came to gawk at W and E playing in the icy cold water.
As we continue to clock up the miles, with flights and train journeys, as our time here comes to an end, we are starting to grow weary of travel. It was with glad hearts therefore that we climbed up to our room at our last hotel, the Ramratrap Palace in Udaipur, knowing that this was an oasis of
calm where we might be able to spend an afternoon just standing still. This white marble heritage hotel, built in the twenties by a wealthy Indian businessman and modelled on a small Rajastan palace, was beautiful and very peaceful. All of the rooms faced in on a central courtyard of balconies, shaded sitting areas and graceful palm trees. There were views around to the mountains and lakes that surround Udaipur and a sun terrace on the roof. The period fittings and fixtures, including a number of vintage cars parked outside and photos of the businessman on tiger hunt (boo!) with someone looking very like George V, contributed to the atmosphere of the place and this, and the charming staff, ensured that we really enjoyed our time here.
We spent a morning exploring the City Palace, the largest in Rajastan (second largest in India) and the only one never to fall to the Moghuls. Impressive certainly in scale, the City Palace was almost too ornate and ostentatious for our tastes; fully-glazed bedrooms, whole terraces of Delft tiles and the abundant use of stain glass left us reeling after the less showy, but ultimately more impressive Amber Fort. Still lived in
in its entirety until the early 1970s, it was actually a little sad to see the remnants of the furniture and effects of the last Maharana and his wife in kitsch fabrics and furniture styles. Perhaps more impressive was the museum, housing much of the history of the 800 consecutive years that this dynasty has ruled the Mewar province (second for longevity of all royal families in the world, after that of Japan). Gruesome weapons and very skilfully-painted miniatures interested W and E respectively, and we were all very taken with the photographs of the elephant trunk-tug-of-war bouts that happened in the palace courtyard until the 1970s.
The courtyard of the palace was being laid-out as we visited for a different sort of confrontation … for the most lavish of weddings, with huge candelabras, statues and draped colonnades being imported for the celebration. It was the same story at several of the properties on Lake Picciola which we visited briefly on a boat tour, including the world-famous Lake Palace. This trip also gave us a great chance to watch washday activity on the shores; washing and rinsing in the green algified water, and pounding with a club to remove
most of the moisture and dirt.
This is wedding season apparently and our nights for the last week have been disturbed by the continuous beating of drums, huge firework displays (with exceptionally loud bangers) and the noises of celebration late into the night. We have seen a number of the wedding processions; brides riding in very richly-decorated traps, with male family and friends walking before and females behind, in the most colourful collection of saris and everyone adorned with huge, yellow gold jewellery. The groom too is dressed lavishly and has to transport himself on the back of the most magnificent horses. Partly to escape the droning of the drumming in Udaipur, we went to the hotel’s lake-side restaurant and ate a lovely meal in an ancient gazebo, under the stars and illuminated by the lanterns and braziers that surrounded us. We all agreed that this City of Lakes was somewhere where we wished we could have stayed longer, with its smaller population (500,000), cleaner streets and air quality and interesting landscape. Unfortunately, this was not to be as Jet Air had moved our flight forward and so we faced six hours in Delhi, kicking our heels, before catching
the sleeper train to Varanasi. Diana took control of the situation, and our travel agency(!), and arranged for us to use the time visiting the Dilli Haat market, which showcases foods and crafts from all regions of India, and then on to Lodi gardens in the middle of the city. Diana has formulated a fool-proof haggling strategy, albeit inadvertently. Enter shop to browse … spot one object that you quite like but not really enough to buy, without several hours’ further consideration and numerous visits to other shops for comparison … politely respond ‘Yes, very nice – I come back later?’, and hey presto, prices tumble and a bargain is had, usually on the pavement outside, as the seller pursues her down the street offering lower and lower prices for something she is not really sure she likes! Are the UK high street shops ready for her return?
Having survived our trial by curiosity on the platform at New Delhi, we boarded the sleeper, only to find that, yet again, our seats were not all together but were spread along the corridor, allowing insufficient room for our luggage. Despite the paper bureaucracy of booking seats, again the rules seem
to be there to be bent. Due to the no-show of a group of Korean tourists there was a glimmer of hope that we might be able to all sit, and sleep, together. I pestered the conductor until he agreed, only for him to later supplant us with three other passengers, who had quite clearly offered him some inducement for the better seats. The evening went downhill from here with the toilet surprise coming as no-surprise, being ripped-off for food and drink and sharing the compartment with people whose snoring made Diana appreciate how lucky she is to have married me! If it hadn’t been for the other gruesome noises coming from just the other side of a curtain perhaps we might have managed some sleep … Still, only one more sleeper to go!
Advertisement
Tot: 0.257s; Tpl: 0.02s; cc: 13; qc: 51; dbt: 0.0659s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb