We said goodbye to Jodhpur after an amazing lightning storm and a backgammon lesson (at last). Jaipur was a bit of a shock. What a revolting place. Maybe it was arriving at 5am, finding the hotel to be a bit depressing, or maybe it was the fact that its inhabitants treat Jaipur like a massive rubbish dump crossed with a urinal. There's rubbish everywhere, a stench of piss and rot, and traffic blaring in every direction. People live on those streets, too - little dusty children running in the traffic begging and families choking on the fumes. We hid on a rooftop restaurant for a few hours, where we bumped into some scousers we met in Jodhpur, then braved the outside world.
Actually, old Jaipur is very nice - the "pink city" (it's not pink) is a grid of quieter little roads where you can peer into tiny workshops where they make statues, jewellery and textiles. We even found a nice rooftop with a nice view to escape from the fuss.
On our second day we put ourselves in the hands of Raja and his rickshaw. He took us on a tour of all Jaipur's sights - the palace of the winds, a bizarre garden of giant sun dials and the amazing Gaitor cenotaphs. These beautiful carved marble domes are the best thing in Jaipur - there was noone around, just silence and shade. We ate samosas by the Lake Palace, looked around the Amber Fort from the outside then climbed up the simiam-strewn hill to the Monkey Temple to watch the sun set into the smog.
So we saw the nice bits, but were quite happy to leave Jaipur.
Thursday 25 February 2010
Sunday 21 February 2010
Desert cats
Fwor, we went on an amazing camel trek in the Thar desert. The plan was to find a camel trip in Jaisalmer, but we heard this one was good and decided to skip Jaisalmer so we can get to Nepal sooner. I love camels, mincing along with their big lily pad feet and their noses in the air. It was just me, Joe and a dreadlocked Norwegian lady called Gro, three guides, two grunty slobbery boy camels and my nice lady camel. I think the boy camels wanted to smooch with mine - they kept blowing disgusting bags of flesh out of their mouths. I had a boy called Vishnu sitting behind me steering the camel, texting and occasionally clucking the camel into a lollopy trot.
The Thar desert is scrubby on the outside and scattered with little settlements, getting sandier as you go inwards. It was ruddy hot - I had a big scarf on but still got a bit burnt. We stopped for lunch, a delicious thali served from tiffin boxes, then lay in a cool hut for a snooze. Not for long though, we soon had a gaggle of little boys glaring at us from the doorway. They were fun though, like all the kids round here they were mad for having their pictures taken and had a crazy time taking pictures of camels and goats with my camera. We met the women and younger children hanging around the shadows of the house next door, they were lovely. There was one gobby 13 year old girl who wanted to be in every picture, decorate me with rings and henna and steal my scarf for a sari.
After we watched the sunset from a sand dune and Joe rested his aching bum we went to the main guide's family village for another tasty thali and to sleep. We made a nest on the roof of the house and slept under the stars. It must be the most peaceful place in the whole of India, it's amazing - no horns, no dogs, no calls to prayer or blaring TVs. Just stars and stars and the occasional mobile phone ring (of course).
The Thar desert is scrubby on the outside and scattered with little settlements, getting sandier as you go inwards. It was ruddy hot - I had a big scarf on but still got a bit burnt. We stopped for lunch, a delicious thali served from tiffin boxes, then lay in a cool hut for a snooze. Not for long though, we soon had a gaggle of little boys glaring at us from the doorway. They were fun though, like all the kids round here they were mad for having their pictures taken and had a crazy time taking pictures of camels and goats with my camera. We met the women and younger children hanging around the shadows of the house next door, they were lovely. There was one gobby 13 year old girl who wanted to be in every picture, decorate me with rings and henna and steal my scarf for a sari.
After we watched the sunset from a sand dune and Joe rested his aching bum we went to the main guide's family village for another tasty thali and to sleep. We made a nest on the roof of the house and slept under the stars. It must be the most peaceful place in the whole of India, it's amazing - no horns, no dogs, no calls to prayer or blaring TVs. Just stars and stars and the occasional mobile phone ring (of course).
The blues
I was struck down. Nasty nasty tummy bugs! Not even a week in, pft. I couldn't even keep water down, which was a bit worrying. I blame a disgusting fruit korma I ate, and the thought of paneer makes my stomach turn still. Thankfully the main yuckiness only lasted 24 hours and I was in a nice cosy cool room, but it extended our stay in Udaipur.
When I surfaced, we finally visited the palace which, while quite stunning from the outside, is a bit disappointing inside. And the boat trip we'd been looking forward to turned out to be a bit of a rip off. Udaipur is a pretty place for monkeys, honeymoons and tour groups, but it was time to move on.
We left early for a six-hour bus to Jodhpur. At the bus station street people begged and clawed us, dusty little people who live on the scrap of park opposite. It was a bit much for such an early hour. The bus journey was so bumpy I thought my stomach was going to jump out of my mouth and at one point I whacked my head on the ceiling. When a woman in front puked out of the window, it blew backwards spraying everyone inside. But the long road wound through the desert and there was plenty to look at, so I clung on gawping at the skinny men in overgrown turbans, the stately camels and the huge slabs of marble being chopped and sold.
Jodhpur is blue. The old town, where we're staying, is made of glowing Brahmin-blue buildings all cobbled together along winding streets which lead up the hillside to the fort. The fort is incredible, it looks like it just sprouted out of the mountain when someone dropped a magic bean.
It all looks a lot nicer from above than it feels from inside - Jodhpur is choked with fumes, deafening with horns and stinky with open sewers. It's charming anyway. The crazy market is full of delicious smells of spices and guava and glinting colourful saris. There's even a world-famous omelette man in the main square: a tiny shack stacked with white eggs and a friendly little dude selling masala cheese omelette sandwiches for less than 50p.
We wandered around the town and took a tour of the fort, and even watched Macbeth in a cool green garden within the fort. Aside from that our guest house roof was a perfect place for being lazy, staring at the fort and talking to people.
When I surfaced, we finally visited the palace which, while quite stunning from the outside, is a bit disappointing inside. And the boat trip we'd been looking forward to turned out to be a bit of a rip off. Udaipur is a pretty place for monkeys, honeymoons and tour groups, but it was time to move on.
We left early for a six-hour bus to Jodhpur. At the bus station street people begged and clawed us, dusty little people who live on the scrap of park opposite. It was a bit much for such an early hour. The bus journey was so bumpy I thought my stomach was going to jump out of my mouth and at one point I whacked my head on the ceiling. When a woman in front puked out of the window, it blew backwards spraying everyone inside. But the long road wound through the desert and there was plenty to look at, so I clung on gawping at the skinny men in overgrown turbans, the stately camels and the huge slabs of marble being chopped and sold.
Jodhpur is blue. The old town, where we're staying, is made of glowing Brahmin-blue buildings all cobbled together along winding streets which lead up the hillside to the fort. The fort is incredible, it looks like it just sprouted out of the mountain when someone dropped a magic bean.
It all looks a lot nicer from above than it feels from inside - Jodhpur is choked with fumes, deafening with horns and stinky with open sewers. It's charming anyway. The crazy market is full of delicious smells of spices and guava and glinting colourful saris. There's even a world-famous omelette man in the main square: a tiny shack stacked with white eggs and a friendly little dude selling masala cheese omelette sandwiches for less than 50p.
We wandered around the town and took a tour of the fort, and even watched Macbeth in a cool green garden within the fort. Aside from that our guest house roof was a perfect place for being lazy, staring at the fort and talking to people.
Monday 15 February 2010
Mumbai to Udaipur
There's a suspiciously big mosquito flying around me as I write this. I hope it's not hungry.
We finally got here, after a long flight with good food but bad films. The Time Traveller's Wife was boring enough to put me to sleep, and that's saying a lot: I don't usually sleep on flights.
We spent the first few days in Mumbai catching up on sleep on an insultingly hard mattress and exploring the massive rambly city that it is. There are some amazing old crumbling buildings - the university, police headquarters, train stations - harking back to colonial times but cut through with stinky, blaring roads. We left the main roads behind to wander around the shadier bazaars and markets which feel more like villages. While there are still plenty of naked children shitting at the side of the road and dusty beggars sleeping on traffic islands, Mumbai is also full of glamorous ladies in skinny jeans and rich folks sipping champagne in air conditioned restaurants.
We set off to Rajasthan after a couple of days. That's an eight hour train through Gujarat to Ahmedabad, then an overnight train to Udaipur. I was looking forward to some good scenery. The friendly lady at the booking office messed up, though - our first journey was booked for the day before, which was just great. With 20 minutes to go, I waited on the platform with the bags while Joe ran off to try to sort it out, being passed from desk to desk. I thought I was going to go into a trance, craning to see all the dark-haired men bobbing up the platform towards me, none of them Joe. But just like in a film, he appeared as the train was rolling away, just in time - we jumped on and resigned ourselves to eight hours' standing in the jam-packed carriage. Our seats, of course, were booked for the previous day. Our flight was eight hours, for god's sake.
Lucky we happened to be crammed in amongst the sweetest, most big-hearted bunch of people ever. They wouldn't have me standing, so a young guy gave me his seat and joined a gaggle of little men around Joe. A bearded fellow next to me pointed out, "Everybody like your husband!" Oh, to be a man in India.
So it wasn't the most relaxing journey but I did get so see some of that lush Gujarati landscape and we made some friends. Soon the train was packed to bursting with passengers, chai sellers worming their way through nonexistent gaps, and a scary eunuch who stomped through demanding cash to avoid curses and pinching our young friends' cheeks.
Udaipur is beautiful, all picturesque buildings and ghats set around a lake and a fairytale palace looming over it all. We headed straight for the rooftop resuaurant in our guesthouse to take it all in and were delighted to observe baby monkeys playing on the roof of the temple opposite - fittingly, a temple to the monkey-god Hanuman. We've got a lovely little room with battenberg-coloured curtains and stained glass lamps and - the best thing - a soft bed. We slept well. The weather here is good too - hot enough in the day but cool at night. Typical Indian traffic though, you risk your life trying to walk anywhere. We even saw a famous person today, Julian Rhind-Tutt of Green Wing fame, floating around like a tall, lion-haired hippy.
I’ve just killed that mosquito.
We finally got here, after a long flight with good food but bad films. The Time Traveller's Wife was boring enough to put me to sleep, and that's saying a lot: I don't usually sleep on flights.
We spent the first few days in Mumbai catching up on sleep on an insultingly hard mattress and exploring the massive rambly city that it is. There are some amazing old crumbling buildings - the university, police headquarters, train stations - harking back to colonial times but cut through with stinky, blaring roads. We left the main roads behind to wander around the shadier bazaars and markets which feel more like villages. While there are still plenty of naked children shitting at the side of the road and dusty beggars sleeping on traffic islands, Mumbai is also full of glamorous ladies in skinny jeans and rich folks sipping champagne in air conditioned restaurants.
We set off to Rajasthan after a couple of days. That's an eight hour train through Gujarat to Ahmedabad, then an overnight train to Udaipur. I was looking forward to some good scenery. The friendly lady at the booking office messed up, though - our first journey was booked for the day before, which was just great. With 20 minutes to go, I waited on the platform with the bags while Joe ran off to try to sort it out, being passed from desk to desk. I thought I was going to go into a trance, craning to see all the dark-haired men bobbing up the platform towards me, none of them Joe. But just like in a film, he appeared as the train was rolling away, just in time - we jumped on and resigned ourselves to eight hours' standing in the jam-packed carriage. Our seats, of course, were booked for the previous day. Our flight was eight hours, for god's sake.
Lucky we happened to be crammed in amongst the sweetest, most big-hearted bunch of people ever. They wouldn't have me standing, so a young guy gave me his seat and joined a gaggle of little men around Joe. A bearded fellow next to me pointed out, "Everybody like your husband!" Oh, to be a man in India.
So it wasn't the most relaxing journey but I did get so see some of that lush Gujarati landscape and we made some friends. Soon the train was packed to bursting with passengers, chai sellers worming their way through nonexistent gaps, and a scary eunuch who stomped through demanding cash to avoid curses and pinching our young friends' cheeks.
Udaipur is beautiful, all picturesque buildings and ghats set around a lake and a fairytale palace looming over it all. We headed straight for the rooftop resuaurant in our guesthouse to take it all in and were delighted to observe baby monkeys playing on the roof of the temple opposite - fittingly, a temple to the monkey-god Hanuman. We've got a lovely little room with battenberg-coloured curtains and stained glass lamps and - the best thing - a soft bed. We slept well. The weather here is good too - hot enough in the day but cool at night. Typical Indian traffic though, you risk your life trying to walk anywhere. We even saw a famous person today, Julian Rhind-Tutt of Green Wing fame, floating around like a tall, lion-haired hippy.
I’ve just killed that mosquito.
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