4 - 6/01/08
After two heavenly days of relaxation in Bundi I set off on the bus to the nearby town of Kota. Here I caught the train to Jaipur, five hours away. I had my first taste of Guava (aka custard apple) courtesy of the lovely family I was sat next to. It was a day of firsts as I also enjoyed my first bicycle rickshaw ride (much more sedate but no less scary than the auto-rickshaws!) and saw my first camel, plodding down the chaotic main road like it was the most normal thing in the world! Jaipur wasn't really anything to write home about - very big, very loud, very dusty and certainly not the pink city that all the guidebooks romantically describe. After sunset I spent seven long hours at the station waiting for my train which was due at midnight but rolled in at 1am. I discovered a family of eight rats in the toilet so squatted from an impressive height and then crossed my legs for the rest of the evening. The staring at the station was particularly bad - men gawping everywhere I turned. In the end I completely covered my head with my scarf so no-one could see I was white. A massive crowd had formed by the time the train pulled in and it moved like a herd of stampeding buffalo. In the pandemonium I ran to the wrong end of the train. In England this would not be a problem but in India there are thirty-something carriages - it's a long long way. Lots of men groped me as I pushed past and then got a second chance when I had to run by once more. The unreserved carriages (which you don't touch with a barge pole unless you've (a) lost your money or (b) lost your mind) were already so full that the passengers inside were refusing to open the doors. This lead to mobs of angry men hammering on the windows and then forcing their way into the sleeper class carriages instead. When I finally got on the train it was so full I could hardly push my way down to my reserved "bunk". When I did get there I found it came complete with three louts who were very reluctant to move. I then had an audience of seven men watch me get into my sleeping bag, all getting kicks out of being suggestive. I tried to block them out of my mind but then glanced to the bunk opposite to see my neighbour wanking whilst ogling me. I have never felt so terrified in all of my life. My only reassurance was the young Korean tourist who was nearby - he looked equally as scared and he regularly shot me sympathetic looks. By 4am the gang appeared to have dispersed, I was so relieved as I was busting for a pee but didn't dare move earlier. My relief was short-lived as the all the men had just relocated to around the toilet. I endured five long minutes waiting whilst getting hands stuck between my legs and everywhere else you can imagine. I was so hard to know what to do in defence - making a fuss would have been dangerous in this particular situation as I was so outnumbered I knew it could have quickly turned much worse. Even the conductor who had past through earlier didn't kick them off the train despite the lack of tickets.
The dawn brought views of sand dunes and a fine coating of sand coated everything in the train. Most of the men had gone but one was remaining who I had noticed had kept himself separate through the trouble the previous night. I had an interesting discussion with him about Indian men's views of western women. Apparently all the men were from the army and were letting off steam...huh! But he respected my opinions. I still don't understand why so many men have such fixed opinions about white women. There's no logic to it as there were Indian women wearing tight western clothes but they weren't getting the same disrespectful treatment that I received.
When I arrived in Jaisalmer I took the local bus (sacks of rice beneath my feet, small child on one knee, someones shopping on the other!) to Khuri, a small desert village two hours due south. I stayed with a really lovely family and slept in my own little thatched mud hut. It was so special and peaceful - a real tonic after the stresses of the previous days. The food was cooked over the fire and was absolutely delicious. The husband was a gentle, fascinating person who took great pleasure from leading a simple life. The next day I headed off on a camel into the desert with some American students to spend a night on the dunes sleeping under the star-studded sky (camel travel is as painful as everyone says!). We passed lots of traditional mud houses so smooth they looked as though they could have been molded from plasticine. The landscape and experience was amazing and nasty memories soon replaced by great ones.
Wednesday 30 January 2008
Wednesday 23 January 2008
Bundi
02-03/01/08
If I ever require a honeymoon destination (I live in hope!) Bundi will be the place for me. It's straight out of a fairytale - a small ramshackle town, once a capital back in the day of the Rajputs (warrior clans that ruled the area for a thousand years). The town is an exquisite mixture of rainbow houses (bright yellows, pinks, blues and oranges), hills, lakes, glittering sarees and best of all an enormous, decaying, extravagant palace which stands magnificently on the hillside overlooking it all. I stayed in a two hundred year old haveli - a traditional stone house centred around a courtyard. They have beautifully painted doorways, heavy carved wooden doors and my room was complete with lake views, stain glass windows and shutters. It was very atmospheric.
The palace is derelict and except for a few others I had the place to myself. It's a maze of small passageways and spiral staircases that you can get lost in for hours. The monkeys live like kings beneath the beautiful gold and turquoise murals. From the top the views stretch for miles and lots of kites can be seen dancing over the rooftops far below.
If I ever require a honeymoon destination (I live in hope!) Bundi will be the place for me. It's straight out of a fairytale - a small ramshackle town, once a capital back in the day of the Rajputs (warrior clans that ruled the area for a thousand years). The town is an exquisite mixture of rainbow houses (bright yellows, pinks, blues and oranges), hills, lakes, glittering sarees and best of all an enormous, decaying, extravagant palace which stands magnificently on the hillside overlooking it all. I stayed in a two hundred year old haveli - a traditional stone house centred around a courtyard. They have beautifully painted doorways, heavy carved wooden doors and my room was complete with lake views, stain glass windows and shutters. It was very atmospheric.
The palace is derelict and except for a few others I had the place to myself. It's a maze of small passageways and spiral staircases that you can get lost in for hours. The monkeys live like kings beneath the beautiful gold and turquoise murals. From the top the views stretch for miles and lots of kites can be seen dancing over the rooftops far below.
Monday 7 January 2008
Agra
31 - 01/01/08
I headed off in the dark and cold down to the train station, past small huddles of people warming themselves around street fires and rickshaw drivers wrapped head to toe in blankets. The station was already bustling with life. Whilst the train flew through the countryside the deep pink sun rose over misty fields and small straw huts littered the landscape. The Indian passenger next to me works as a japanese interpreter and taught himself the language in two months no less! It puts me to shame as everyone I meet is so good at languages. Once in Agra I shared a bitterly cold ride into town with a French couple. North India has a massive selection of people from all over the world, quite a contrast to the south. New Year's eve was spent on the roof terrace overlooking the Taj Mahal with two girls from Germany and Finland and two boys from Switzerland and Chicago. By 4am it was time to hit the sack but sleep was short as I had to be up again at 5.30 to get to the Taj Mahal for sunrise. What a way to spend the first day of 2008! It was pitch black as I walked down to the entrance gate and stars covered the sky. Seeing the Taj Mahal looming against the night sky was a truly magical experience, only comparable with the feeling you get on Christmas eve when you are little. As the sun gradually rose the building changed from blue to pale pink and then finally a dazzling white. It was breathtakingly beautiful. It had been so cold that frost coated everything and mist rose from the river behind clinging like a blanket to the ground. The Taj Mahal looked like a palace floating on clouds. I don't think it could have been more picturesque. Up close the stone-work is staggeringly detailed. There are intricate lattice partitions and the most exquisite flowers made from carefully inlaid coloured stones. It is totally mind-blowing to think of the effort involved.
That night it was back on the sleeper train once more for the fifteen hour journey to Rajasthan - first stop Bundi. I hadn't been in sleeper class since I'd reached the wintry North and of course I'd forgotten it has no heating. Thankfully I'd packed my sleeping bag but I was so tired I nodded of before getting into it. The next thing I knew I was woken by a prod in my back and turned to find a little old man flinging a blanket over me. I tried to explain that it was okay and that I had a sleeping bag but it was to no avail. He was fiercely insistent I should have it. I admitted defeat, thanked him profusely and went back to sleep. Twenty minutes later I was aware of some shoving and found the same man looking despairingly at me and trying to tuck me in (I clearly don't know how to wear a blanket the Indian way)!! He was a little sweety.
I headed off in the dark and cold down to the train station, past small huddles of people warming themselves around street fires and rickshaw drivers wrapped head to toe in blankets. The station was already bustling with life. Whilst the train flew through the countryside the deep pink sun rose over misty fields and small straw huts littered the landscape. The Indian passenger next to me works as a japanese interpreter and taught himself the language in two months no less! It puts me to shame as everyone I meet is so good at languages. Once in Agra I shared a bitterly cold ride into town with a French couple. North India has a massive selection of people from all over the world, quite a contrast to the south. New Year's eve was spent on the roof terrace overlooking the Taj Mahal with two girls from Germany and Finland and two boys from Switzerland and Chicago. By 4am it was time to hit the sack but sleep was short as I had to be up again at 5.30 to get to the Taj Mahal for sunrise. What a way to spend the first day of 2008! It was pitch black as I walked down to the entrance gate and stars covered the sky. Seeing the Taj Mahal looming against the night sky was a truly magical experience, only comparable with the feeling you get on Christmas eve when you are little. As the sun gradually rose the building changed from blue to pale pink and then finally a dazzling white. It was breathtakingly beautiful. It had been so cold that frost coated everything and mist rose from the river behind clinging like a blanket to the ground. The Taj Mahal looked like a palace floating on clouds. I don't think it could have been more picturesque. Up close the stone-work is staggeringly detailed. There are intricate lattice partitions and the most exquisite flowers made from carefully inlaid coloured stones. It is totally mind-blowing to think of the effort involved.
That night it was back on the sleeper train once more for the fifteen hour journey to Rajasthan - first stop Bundi. I hadn't been in sleeper class since I'd reached the wintry North and of course I'd forgotten it has no heating. Thankfully I'd packed my sleeping bag but I was so tired I nodded of before getting into it. The next thing I knew I was woken by a prod in my back and turned to find a little old man flinging a blanket over me. I tried to explain that it was okay and that I had a sleeping bag but it was to no avail. He was fiercely insistent I should have it. I admitted defeat, thanked him profusely and went back to sleep. Twenty minutes later I was aware of some shoving and found the same man looking despairingly at me and trying to tuck me in (I clearly don't know how to wear a blanket the Indian way)!! He was a little sweety.
Going Solo - Delhi
30/12/07
My time in south India has sadly come to an end. So with my rucksack bursting at the seams and looking quite ridiculous on a puney person such as myself I headed off to Trivandrum airport (Kerala). After being asked to step inside the frisking booth (their name not mine!) and being given a thorough going over I was allowed on the plane and 3 hours later arrived in smog shrouded Delhi. One and a half hours and several prayers to the god of conveyor belts later my bag trundles into view - big sigh of relief! I located the left luggage office which turns out to be a corrugated iron shack in the car park. This will be home for two thirds of my luggage for the next nine days - not feeling particularly optimistic about seeing my bag again and feel like I have just paid someone to steal it! By this time it was getting dark so I decided to treat myself to a taxi. For once the lonely planet guide was invaluable as it warned against taxi scams so I was prepared. Sure enough as soon as I was setting off the taxi driver's shifty male "friend" hopped in and gave me a sleazy smile. I told him with my foot out the door that he'd better get out or I was off - he reluctantly did. Then it was the "I know a better hotel" line and then "you need to reconfirm your room - it's probably already gone" and finally "come sit in the front with me"... not on your life! After giving him many death stares I reached my destination... Paharganj, described in th guide book as "downright seedy and full of dodgy characters" - how could I resist! This area is a maze of cluttered alleyways, heady with incence, rammed with bicycle rickshaws and vibrant colours everywhere. My hotel (and it really is stretching the imagination calling it that) is dire. A rabbit warren/death trap that is still a building site and unfortunately the builders work around the clock. The room has no windows and has the ambience of a prison cell. Still it's only one night and it's close to the station which is where I'll be at 5.30am for my train to Agra.
My time in south India has sadly come to an end. So with my rucksack bursting at the seams and looking quite ridiculous on a puney person such as myself I headed off to Trivandrum airport (Kerala). After being asked to step inside the frisking booth (their name not mine!) and being given a thorough going over I was allowed on the plane and 3 hours later arrived in smog shrouded Delhi. One and a half hours and several prayers to the god of conveyor belts later my bag trundles into view - big sigh of relief! I located the left luggage office which turns out to be a corrugated iron shack in the car park. This will be home for two thirds of my luggage for the next nine days - not feeling particularly optimistic about seeing my bag again and feel like I have just paid someone to steal it! By this time it was getting dark so I decided to treat myself to a taxi. For once the lonely planet guide was invaluable as it warned against taxi scams so I was prepared. Sure enough as soon as I was setting off the taxi driver's shifty male "friend" hopped in and gave me a sleazy smile. I told him with my foot out the door that he'd better get out or I was off - he reluctantly did. Then it was the "I know a better hotel" line and then "you need to reconfirm your room - it's probably already gone" and finally "come sit in the front with me"... not on your life! After giving him many death stares I reached my destination... Paharganj, described in th guide book as "downright seedy and full of dodgy characters" - how could I resist! This area is a maze of cluttered alleyways, heady with incence, rammed with bicycle rickshaws and vibrant colours everywhere. My hotel (and it really is stretching the imagination calling it that) is dire. A rabbit warren/death trap that is still a building site and unfortunately the builders work around the clock. The room has no windows and has the ambience of a prison cell. Still it's only one night and it's close to the station which is where I'll be at 5.30am for my train to Agra.
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