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Published: August 25th 2004
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Jaisalmer Fort Ok then - second update. Loads to tell you all about, so I'll do it chronologically - since I last updated you all, Rachael arrived in Delhi, which was obviously very nice for me - though not so nice for her, as she had to deal with the rather large culture shock that India's capital brings.
Only a day later, we were on our way to Rajasthan - the Land of the Kings. This vast area borders the Great Thar Desert, and is thus dry and scrubby, though there are lush hills in the South of the state. It is the ancient home of the Rajpuit warrior clans - who have ruled here for a 1000 years, by a strict code of honour and chivaly akin to European medeival knights.
These Marahajas have built scores of impregnable forts, and glittering palaces, most of which still stand today. In medeival times these local fiefdoms fought against each other, as well as the invading Mughal emperors, and were renowned for their honour and bravery in battle. Each city is full of local legends and tales of bloody battles of yore, mainly over land, or women! My favourite story is of 30,000 rajpuit warriors,
Jodhpur Fort, Rajasthan. beseiged in their fort against vastly superior Muslim forces chose death over dishonour, and rode out to die fighting - while their children and women folk all built a big fire - and threw themselves onto it...
Even the names of the cities are romantic - Jaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer, Puskar... and the backdrop to these stunning palaces and their riches are the local towns, full of tight, winding, Medieval roads, where camels pull carts, and local women in their colourful saris and gold jewellry carry water pots on their heads (a skill sadly lacking in Western women, I find). Throw in the local men with their swashbuckling moustaches and brilliantly coloured turbans (saffron, blood red and pink are favourites), and you see why Rajasthan really is the romantic ideal of India - I guess kind of like their Tuscany - only with a higher incidence of child polio...
Because of the large distances involved, we actually hired a car and a driver - the charming Rikki, who would stop at nothing to drive us to the hotel or souvineer shop that paid him the highest commission. Actually, it was a relief to have the A/C of the car in the
Lake Palace and City Palace, Udaipur.
(aka Octopussy's lair) heat of the desert.
Rajasthan didnt really have that many travellers - many of the palaces and havelis (town houses of rich merchants that are built around an inner courtyard, and decortated with ornate frescoes) are now luxury hotels, so the clientel was mainly affluent french and italians when we were there, which was admittedly off season.
As I've mentioned, the marahajas have ruled here for 1000 years - they claim to be decended from the Sun God. They still live in their towering forts and palaces, but only have their titles left - since most of them, after signing away real trading power to the British in return for knighthoods and visits to London (one Rajput king actually took over a whole floor at Claridges for 2 years!!) , have spanked away their money - so now have opened their properties as museums and luxury hotels.
One of these was the Lake Palace in Udaipur - which was the setting for Octopussy's lair in the Bond film of the same name. It's the one where a slightly disinterested Roger Moore gets to the island by a mini-sub disguised as a crocodile... The town is lovely, and the palace is
Marahaja's Bedroom, Jodhpurspectacular - though the lake surrounding it is now only half full due to failing rains..
The one problem with Rajasthan, and it's generally upmarket tourists is the touts it attracts, is that at every major sight, you get pestered to buy bangles, soapstone elephants, and all manor of useless tat - and these guys are very very insistent. The same also applies to auto-rickshaw drivers, hotel owners, and so on.. it gets v.annoying, and you sometimes get the feeling that EVERYBODY you meet is on the make. Throw in the incredible noise of the brain melting volume of the car horns, the dust, the chaos of walking down an indian streets, and the overwhelming assault of various smells, from the delicate arouma of the spice stands, the oily and tasty smell of potato pakooras being cooked, and the gagging stench of open drains and human faeces - and you can imagine that travelling in India is sometimes very very draining...
Of course, there is a regional flavour to this universal fleecing of tourists - and in Rajasthan, this takes the form of the "colourfully dressed local musicians" - basically, these guys, in full rajput splendour spend the day in the
Holy Lake, Pushkar. shade of some old fort or palace, until they see westerners - where upon they explode into a "spontaneous" musical treat - all playing away on their traditional instruments - a sort of accordion thing, and a guitar cum violin affair - they also push out a pretty young girl in her full gorgeous sari and gold ensemble to dance for the tourists - this only lasts 30 seconds or so until the tourists either cough up money out of white guilt, or disappear sheepishly.... I did try and see if these guys did requests, and asked for "Atmosphere", by Russ Abbott. They just stared blankly - then, thinking I was french, they launched into a scratchy "frere jacques", and then grinned and asked for money...
but India wouldnt be the same without the exasperation that goes with the territory - it's not a place you see, but one you experience..
Anyway, after all this sightseeing - I'm just about done with forts and palaces - so now we're off to the Taj Mahal, Varanassi, then down to the beaches of Goa... and yes, I know Kerala is supposed to be nicer, but it's still the monsoon down south, it's
Painted Doorway, Jaipur City Palacefurther to get to, and so more expensive, and we only have a week before we return to london for a couple of days - and besides, I want to see what all the fuss about Goa is really all about...
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Rimmer
Weasel
Well done Weasel, I felt transported to the squalour of deepest India, have fun in Goa and I look forward to the next installment. Rimmer