Sick As A Prince

Udaipur, India

(Route so far here) 

In this blog... I get ill, go to afternoon tea with a 'Prince', cycle to a mountain palace, and see the world's largest turban.

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It was going to happen eventually. Being exposed to some many different foods, people, germs, and in India, standards of hygiene, meant that I was bound to get some sort of illness sometime, and in Udaipur it finally happened. I'm just surprised it took six weeks in India for it to do so! In one hit this week, I've been suffering from a spot of Delhi belly, a cold, a fungal infection on my finger as well as having to have another anti-rabies jab following the dog bite the week before. Surprisingly, with the exception of one day, I've managed to function fairly normally through all this and it hasn't hit me too hard. 

Monday 

So back in Jodhpur, and with no direct trains to Udaipur I reluctantly took the bus south, a seven hour journey. I'm beginning to hate buses, but they're a necessary evil sometimes. The scenery on the way was nothing too special, lots of scrubby hill land, with a few flat patches in between where vegetables and rapeseed were being grown. A couple of times we passed people living in makeshift tents beside the road, fashioned from scavenged wood and tarpaulins, cooking outside on the street using small stoves. Sadly a sight you will see somewhere most days, but at least they have a bit of space and hygiene, unlike the big slums of Mumbai. 

Despite being a long distance express bus, the driver had no hesitations in suddenly slamming on the brakes to pick up people as he went. The roads we took varied completely, sometimes dual carriageway, sometimes dirt track, and at one point a very steep and windy minor road that wound up through some hills, with many langur monkeys hanging out in the trees by the road. In some of the villages we went through, people gathered round the village pump, and women carried home large containers of water in their heads. We passed a fairly smart looking horse breeding farm, some lovely dry stone walling, and a few large marble quarries. After this, there was mile after mile of nothing but marble sales yards, selling huge slabs of the white cut variety. I've never seen so much of the stuff.

Arriving at Udaipur, I shared a rickshaw across town to the hotel area with two British girls here on holiday, who were also on the bus. We were so overloaded with ourselves and bags, that with them stuffed in the back, I had to share the seat with the driver, him sat off-centre holding the handlebars (being part-motorbike), whilst I held on tight to keep myself both on the seat and in the vehicle! It was hilarious, but given the slow speed, not as dangerous as it sounds. There were a lot of hotels on offer but I struggled to find what I was after, with them either being too busy, too grubby, too expensive, or lacking in other guests. I usually take the first or second place I find, but here I turned into one of those hotel snobs you see on TV, and looked at seven different places before I found the right one. It was worth the effort though, having a fantastic rooftop cafe overlooking the beautiful Lake Pichola and the royal palace, and for the remainder of that afternoon all it seemed fitting to do, was sit in the warm sun looking at this amazing view, reading my book and drinking a beer. In fact I ended up sitting in the same spot for nearly eight hours!

The stunning Lake Palace, Udaipur

After some food, I chatted to an English guy on the the next table, him having been in India for a couple of months to volunteer and travel as a break from work. He was bored of his marketing job, but also bored of traveling, and whilst he was nice enough, his misery was infectious. I hate negative people. Two Russian girls sat on the next table along and we all got chatting for a while before Mr Happy disappeared off. I'm very intrigued by Russia and have been for a long time. The first group of Russians I met in Munich a few months ago upheld the loud vodka-swilling stereotype, but here Natasha and Natasha were the opposite. Their English was extremely good and accent quite soft, and they were friendly, polite and good fun. We had a good chat about all sorts, and I asked hundreds of things about Russia that I'd always wanted to know. 

Tuesday

Hot wheels

I've not ridden a bicycle for two months. Thinking about it, it's probably the longest I've ever gone without. I'm a bit of an addict and have missed cycling a lot, so the next day when I found that Udaipur had a hire shop I was straight there, paying £0.50 (50 rupees) to take a typical old-fashioned Indian bike out for the day. There really is only one main style of bike in India, and this was it - extremely heavy, a huge frame, one fixed gear, slow steering, swept back handlebars and terrible brakes. It's an awful design, and they're all way too big for the average Indian who rides them, but as with everything in India, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. It was a lot of fun to ride though, and I headed out of town, experiencing the chaotic roads first hand for the first time, drawing funny looks and remarks along the way from all the locals, who thought it was hilarious to see a foreigner on a bike. I rode round the beautiful Lake Fateh Sarah, and came across Shilpgram, a rather touristy re-creation of a rural village typical to the Rajistan area of India. As I was passing anyway, I decided to go in for an hour or so, stopping to watch the paid musicians burst into life and play when tourists walk past, then demand a tip. The buildings were mildly interesting to see but a bit fake and cheesey - real-life is much more interesting.

Half-way back I was cycling back around the lake, when out of nowhere came alongside me an Indian guy in his late twenties, riding an eighties road-bike and wearing an eighties shell-suit, and so began a truly surreal experience. With no introduction, he blurted out the usual 'what is your country sir?' in the very formal and old-fashioned English commonly used here, and he proceeded to chat away and ask various questions. He asked my name, and I asked his - he replied 'Prince Kamakhaya Singh'. 'You're a prince?' I said, slightly surprised and a tiny bit suspicious. He went on to tell me how he lived near the lake and cycled round for fitness every day, but his family home was the palace 'Devi Garh' around thirty miles away. As time went on he started to seem increasingly crazy and arrogant, yet remaining very friendly and inquisitive. He then started coming out with some truly ludicrous statements, with no hesitation that they might be seen as anything but normal. For example - he said he's started over seven religions, is the best polo player in the world, and is the living reincarnation of over two hundred people. Okayyyy! He seemed harmless though, and when he invited me to his house for a cup of tea, I obliged out of curiously of this strange person.

Prince Kamakhaya Singh

Having afternoon tea at the house of Prince Kamakhaya Singh

A short while later back in Udaipur, we cycled up a steep hill to his reasonably large suburban home overlooking the lake, and he pointed to a plaque above the gate which indeed said 'Prince Kamakhaya Singh'. I asked if he lived alone, and learnt he lived there with his parents, and I was given a seat on the balcony whilst his mum prepared tea and biscuits. I found myself talking in a similar style to Louis Theroux - asking seemingly innocent things but underneath thinking 'you madman'! I probed him with more questions and the truth started slowly revealing itself. He was legally allowed to use the title of Prince, but it appeared that he bought the rights to do so and registered it with the local government. He'd also bought the rights off the internet for £0.10 a time, and then had approved by the local government, to legally be known as the reincarnation of Bruce Lee, Roger Moore and Spiderman amongst others, as well as a few Hindu gods! It transpired that the palace somehow left his family during his grandfathers time, possibly due to debt, and he was now in litigation with the current property group to claim back the rights of ownership, the grounds of which weren't apparent. The statement that really told me that he should be institutionalised, was one that made me bite my lip and hold my chest in, trying my hardest not to laugh. He told me straight faced and without hesitation, that he is the legal owner of the universe. The entire planetary system of the universe...

It was one of the most bizarre encounters I'd ever had, and with the daylight drawing in, I politely said goodbye and cycled back to the hire shop. But not before he took down my details, and told me he'd send an invite to his wedding when it happens... despite not actually having a girlfriend, nor wanting an arranged marriage.

Udaipur was the location for the 1983 James Bond film - Octopussy, with much of the film being set around the nearby lake palace, and city streets. People of the city are very proud of this, and many of the restaurants play the film every single night to lure in customers. After thirty years I would guess they must be pretty bored of it! I went to one such place near my hotel and watched it that evening, noting whilst watching that the streets and fashions of India look exactly the same thirty years later. But I felt a bit off my food, and couldn't even stomach a bland pasta, so went to bed early after my Bond fix.

Wednesday

I woke up feeling a bit offish, after a few days of not being quite right, but after breckfast went for a wander anyway, having a look around nearby Bagore-ki Haveli. An eighteenth century Haveli, it's best described as an Indian version of a mansion house, and now preserved as a museum. I enjoyed looking round for an an hour or so, especially seeing the collection of turbans which included the world's biggest one - too big for even an elephant. But I felt sluggish when I left, with every beeping horn and pushy shopkeeper driving me up the wall much more than normal. I gave in and, feeling drained of energy and feeling pretty rubbish, turned back to the hotel, spending the rest of the day either on the toilet, or lounging in the sun in the rooftop area, reading my book. 

Bagore-ki Haveli

Thursday

After a good sleep I felt more back to normal, and not wanting another day around the hotel, yet again hired a bike and set off out of the city. I chose a mountain bike this time, knowing I needed some gears, and lugged this heavy bit of kit slowly up the steep hill to the Monsoon Palace - a now empty building a few miles out of town. The views were terrific, and only interrupted by a group of Indian lads who wanted my photo taken with them at seemingly every photo opportunity. I've mentioned before this is a fairly common occurrence in India, I guess 'foreigners' are a bit novel to some of them. Whilst it can be fun for a while, their approach can be downright rude sometimes, when they just shuffle alongside and take it without actually asking, or more often when you're ordered into their picture, and can become a little grating after a while. I cycled back down the hill, then out through some very interesting rural villages, where their grasp of English is understandably less good, and for the first time I saw some terrible teeth. I guess dental care comes second to just surviving for many. Twenty miles later I was back at base feeling completely ruined - definitely still not my normal self.

Friday

Saheliyon ki Badi gardens

I'd planned to leave town this morning, but ended up spending the whole morning in an Internet cafe trying to sort out some things for the next few weeks, and indeed next few months. After lunch, like a junkie, I had a craving to get back on a bike again so hired an old-school Indian bike again, and headed out to some beautiful gardens - Saheliyon ki Badi - before cutting across town to a special graveyard. Using Google maps with the GPS on my phone proves to be very handy to find your way around unfamiliar places, and I passed through all sorts of interesting parts of town I doubt many tourists would ever find themselves venturing. 

Ahah centopaths

I reached Ahah Centopaths, noted as an attraction but rarely visited from the looks of it. I never thought I'd describe a graveyard as amazing, but this royal cemetary, where rulers from previous centuries were laid to rest, was truly something else. I was the only visitor at the time, and was amused by the corrupt security guard who upon entering said 'cameras are not allowed, but if you give me twenty rupees you can take photos'! There were around two hundred and fifty exquisitely carved Centopaths - marble monuments, all set tightly together; some big, some small, and together the layers of detail built a spectacular view. A real unexpected find - I really enjoy places unaffected by tourism or hype, where you can see them for what they really are. Even if they're graveyards.

Cycling on the roads of India is very different to anywhere I've ever ridden. There is no consideration of other road users, no indicating, and you don't let people out, stay in lanes, or wait for people. Instead, I found that everyone pulls out of junctions without even looking and expects the traffic to just stop for them, and they'll cut you up and force you into the back of parked cars if you don't ride assertively enough. It's each for himself, and total chaos! I was soon back in town in the shopping area.

I hate shopping and particularly hate useless souvenirs, but force myself to buy the odd few things knowing I'll appreciate them in future. I stopped to buy some paintings, all originals and quite nicely done for not a lot of money. In one of the shops I visited I couldn't help but be transfixed by the ears of one of the artists I met - on the outer edges of the flesh he had great tufts of black hair growing where I've never seen it grow before, it was amazing. One of those situations where you have to wrestle your eyes back to where they should be!

Saturday

The center point for Udaipur is the lake, and having not visited the most obvious attraction yet, I decided to take one of the boat cruises out around the beautiful white palace in the middle of it. It was a nice way to spend the morning, and on another island that we stopped at nearby, I chatted to two older tourists who had Indian heritage, but had lived their lives in South Africa and I noted just how different their mindset was because of this. They were hilarious to chat to and quite modern, if not a little racist, and I had a proper good laugh with for a while.

 

Lake palace from the boat

It was time to move on. I'd felt a bit shoddy for the whole time in Udaipur, but it was never enough to ground me, and spending the time just resting wouldn't really have helped. I'd met some interesting locals, but was disappointed not to have met more fellow travellers at the hotel after the first day. Sometimes when this happens it's just me being lazy, sometimes the layout of a place makes it a bit unsociable, and other times certain places attract certain types of people, so I'm not sure which applied this time, possibly the latter. I'd thoroughly enjoyed the beauty of the lake and surrounding buildings, even if the rest of the city was typically grotty, noisy and chaotic, and it had been fantastic to get out and about on a bike again.

 

Still makes me cringe everytime I see this happen, and it's all too common

 

Shilpgram model village, a bit cheesey for my liking

Countryside near Udaipur

 

Local farmers I saw whilst cycling

The monsoon palace

The Blue City

Jodhpur, India

The train journey to Jodhpur was for a change fairly uneventful, bar a wandering two year old who, completely unrestrained by his parents, wouldn't leave me and my things alone! Arriving around 9pm, I took a rickshaw across Jodhpur then navigated the dark narrow rabbit warren of streets that make up the city centre to eventually find a decent guesthouse. I was pleased for once to get a characterful, quiet and windowless room, which allowed me the best sleeps since leaving Krageholm in Sweden many months ago! 

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Jodhpur is famous for its huge and imposing fort which towers above the town on a rocky outcrop, and also for it's blue-painted houses. The first day there I set out to wander round the maze of streets, not worrying that I was completely lost as it was so interesting to see. Locals hanging out chatting, cows wandering, women cooking on the doorstep with little gas stoves, and young kids playing crickets with plastic bats and balls. I eventually found my way up the steep path and got to Mehrangarh Fort, built by the state's royal family in the 15th century. 

The former palace sat in the centre of the complex, and was impressively crafted from the local red sandstone with some impressive but ostentatious rooms inside. In the gardens below where no one else seemed to visit, I stood and watched literally hundreds of eagles circling overhead, a common sight there apparently. On the way back down to the town, I stopped at Jaswant Thanda; a beautiful marble building and gardens built as a memorial to a former ruler, and relaxed in the afternoon sun taking in the view over the city for a while. 

Mehrangarh Fort, looming over the town

Jaswant Thanda

The next day will go down as one of the best in a while, a really authentic local experience, something that really can't be bought. I had no real plan for the day except to have a wander around the bustling markets, shops and businesses of the town, which went on forever in every direction. I passed a clock tower (very uncommon in India), a urban lake and a very unique and impressive step well - the latter of impressive architecture, but full of grotty water and rubbish. I stopped outside a small factory, no bigger that a living room, where they processed locally grown cotton then stuffed it into cloth to make duvet covers, and one of the family members who runs it came out and chatted. A little further on there was another small factory making air conditioning units from sheet metal. The latter being my speciality at home, it was interesting to compare quality and working conditions, which were both a little different to what we're used to! They were delighted to be talking to a 'foreigner' and all got distracted from their jobs for a few minutes, asking for their pictures to be taken. 

Sheet metal factory

Pillow fight!

Continuing on, I past a small printing shop, a man doing lathe work and a chap sharpening knives and scissors for people. I bought some kchores - a deep fried vegetable snack which were just 3 pence (3 rupees) each... and may have been the cause of problems to come. Tourists only tend to visit the attractions and main market in Jodhpur, and having got far away from that area I'd not seen any others for hours but it felt safe nevertheless, as India does as a whole. 

Getting out of the busy area, I decided to go down a side street and happened upon a natural tower of rock with a tiny Hindu shrine at the top, stood completely on its own high above the surrounding warren of houses. I'd spotted it from afar the day before, and now found it purely by accident. The way up was blocked by a working building site - a temple being extended, so it wasn't exactly open to the public. Whilst I looked up at it, two lads of around twenty who were stood nearby - Navratan and Karan - started talking to me, and as they worshipped at the temple offered to take me up to the top, so I thought why not. They led me up a path outside the working site, passing both male and female workers laboriously carrying heavy buckets of sand and gravel on their heads, and they kindly gave me a cup of tea as we passed through. We entered the building, and knowing the common Indian attitude to health and safety, I walked forwards carefully as we asscended flights of steps and squeezed between scaffolding. We got to the stack of rock itself and had to ascend a ladder to the top, thankfully a sturdy fixed steel one. The views up there were absolutely fantastic in all directions around, and I stood taking them in whilst leisurely chatting to Navratan and Karan.

Back at the bottom, a couple of the labourers started talking to me in broken English, passing the time of day. Their work looked backbreaking, so I decided to find out exactly how hard by asking if I could carry one of the buckets to the concrete mixer - on my head like them obviously! They were happy to let me join in, and I lifted the pan of sand which must have weighed about 15kg, and rested it on my skull. I walked up the path, passing the twenty-odd other labourers, working as a kind-of walking production line, who were in stitches watching me join in, before I chucked the sand into the concrete mixer fifty metres away. It was a great laugh, and I'm glad it brightened their day, but showed me a different perspective on just how tough life is for some people here.

They wouldn't give me the job 

I was on a roll. I continued on, walking about a hundred metres around the corner where a group of kids were playing cricket on the street. They started talking and I joined in their game for a couple of minutes, which was great fun yet again. Unfortunately the mood turned a bit sour afterwards when they followed me for five minutes or so, asking for chocolate or money and wouldn't leave me whatever I said. Fortunately a local fobbed them off for me eventually. A few minutes after this I saw a local barbers, and went in, having been so impressed by experience of the cutthroat shave I had a few days before. I was amazed to see him heating a mug of water, by dangling into the metal cup, a live heating element that had been removed from a kettle, holding it by the cable. All was fine, but it was a close shave with disaster (sorry!). 

The following day I'd planned to go on a tour to an interesting village an hour or so away, inhabited by a unique religious sect who hug trees, but it was one of those occasions when I couldn't find any tour groups going, and no-one at the local bus station could understand what I was on about. It wasn't meant to be, and sometimes it's not worth putting too much time to one place when there's so many others to visit. I changed my plans and walked through the busy market square then crossed the street, when suddenly I heard a rattle and a squeal, as a boy swerved around me on his bike and crashed onto the tarmac. The poor lad got up and dusted himself off, and looking shocked, worked out whether he was hurt but thankfully wasn't. I'm still not sure what happened but might have been partly my fault, though I'm not sure he was paying attention either!

I walked across town to Umaid Bhawan palace. I'm a little indifferent about palaces these days, but quite liked this one as it was a more modern take, and impressed on its materials and scale rather than ostentatious decor. With 347 rooms it's one of the biggest in the world, and was designed by a British architect, employing 3,000 people for 15 years before opening in 1944. Enough facts?! I particularly liked the fact that they had Someset ciders on one of the old royal drinks menus. Not that much was actually open to the public, so after an hour or so I headed back across town. I passed an open shutter of a fabrication shop, making steel windows and doors amongst other things, and got yapping with one of the guys, who let me walk inside and have a quick look. Once again a little different to my old workplace!

Umaid Bhawan palace

My final stop in Jodhpur was the city zoo. Now I'm not actually a fan of zoo's, they don't give you any of the excitement of seeing animals in nature and can be pretty cruel, but I was intrigued by what an Indian zoo would look like so went for that more than the animals, and the £0.60 entry charge wasn't too offputting. I visited a zoo in China a few years ago, and on the whole it was a pretty depressing place - this one was no different. The animals all appeared to be in good health, but were all kept in with grim steel cages or concrete houses, usually too small for them, with the roof covered over for shade. If monkeys and lions could commit suicide, these were ready to step off the bridge. But the worst thing was the attitude of some of the Indian visitors towards them, with people throwing stones and shouting at the bear and lion to capture their attention and get them to move. I had to walk away, it was disgraceful. My curiosity with an Indian zoo was satisfied. 

Happy? 

Inside the majestic fort palace

Musician busking at Mehrangarh Fort

Eagles circling over the fort 

Dying and drying headscarfs on the street

Birds on a lake near Umaid Bhawan palace

Curry Club - photos from India

Second album of photos from my travels in India now online - click here

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Pushing On

Pushkar, India

'Sit here please foreigner' was the blunt instruction that hit me, as soon as I set foot in the train heading from Jaipur to Ajmer on New Years Day. The words came from a twelve year old boy, sat with his family in a bay just inside the door of the carriage, and I was quite taken aback for a second but decided to oblige as he seemed good natured.

For the two hour journey this cheeky young lad, so curious, and so pleased about meeting a 'foreigner', asked me everything he could possibly think of, holding back nothing whilst the rest of his family sat deadly silent. His English was perfect, as he goes to an 'English medium school' as they call it. The questions flew like shells from a machine gun: 'What country are you from?', 'what state you from?', 'what is your state capital?', 'do you have tsunamis?', 'is it colder than India?', 'do you learn Hindi at school', 'are you married or unmarried?', 'do you have a girlfriend?', 'how old are you?', 'you're 30 and unmarried???!!!'. He quietened down for a while, and I spent time looking out the open window at the increasingly arid scenery. Every so often he'd think of another one: 'Are you veg or non-veg? (I.e.- do you eat meat), 'who is your god?', 'how much is a bottle of water in England?', 'what is your salary?'. As normal in our culture I'd never normally discuss the last one, but I'd heard that Indians openly talk about what they earn, so I saw no harm in making him more aware of the world outside India by answering honestly. As a guide, even a minimum wage salary in Britain will still earn you twice that of a doctor here, but of course living costs are considerably cheaper here so it's all relative.

I'm hoping to try out all seven classes of train whilst in India to see what they're like, and this was the bottom rung - '2nd class unreserved' - the firm-cushioned cattle-class, you associate with images of people hanging off the side and roof. Those are in fact rare occurrences and it was pretty quiet that day, so at £0.50 for a two hour, 135km journey it couldn't be more of a bargain. It was nowhere near as uncomfortable as I expected, in fact nothing can be anymore after those nasty bus journeys I did in the Himalayas! Once at Ajmer, I took a rickshaw to the bus station, and an hour later was in the small desert town of Pushkar.

The lake at Pushkar

Pushkar is one of the most sacred sites in India for Hindus, and it was quite noticeable, with many Indians visiting to worship in one of the 500 temples or go bathing in the holy waters; doing small ceremonies by its side, and dropping flower petals onto the surface. After finding a hotel amongst then narrow jumbled backstreets that make up the town, I went for a wander around the small lake. I took great care to tread between, and hop over all the goose and pigeon poo as I wandered around the paved lake edge in my socks - a rule for all Hindu and Muslim religious places means you had to remove your shoes, even outside. As the sun set I sat on a ghat (set of steps) in the sun, taking in this interesting scene. 

Lakeside ghats

Vishnu temple

I looked round the rest of the town and started wandering the colourful, narrow and windy backstreets where the locals live. I've become more comfortable with exploring certain areas further afield, now I understand the people and country better, and it was fascinating seeing a glimpse of the humble but happy lives many people live. I've mentioned before that there are a lot of stray dogs on the streets in India, and I've found most of them to be quite placid until now, rarely even barking. Turning a corner in one of said streets, I glimpsed a couple of street dogs asleep on a step. As I passed one of them started barking quite loudly and aggressively without warning, so I walked on quickly. Then suddenly I felt a pain in my left calf. I was confused at first, then I realised the blighter had chased after me and bitten my leg.

In a bit of pain, as well as shock I sat down on some steps. A lady saw it all out of her window, and shouted to her friend who came over, asking in English what happened and could she see the bite. She said one word, one I didn't want to hear - 'hospital'. Her neighbour, a lad of my age arrived home on his motorbike at that moment and she told him the story and ushered me to hop on the bike. We weaved slowly around all the backstreets for a couple of minutes, and arrived at the hospital before I knew it. This kind chap spoke to the receptionist and then led me straight into a doctors consulting room. It wasn't the medical standards I'm used to, but at the same time wasn't at all bad. The doctor saw a tiny trace of blood where the dogs teeth had lightly pierced the skin, and said whilst it didn't look bad, I'd have to have the rabies vaccination as a precaution, as street dogs are sometimes infected - five jabs over the next month! Marvelous. At least his fee was painless at only £1 in cash! The hospital didn't hold the drugs, and I was then taken on the motorbike to a local pharmacy, who called a nurse out. Half an hour later the guy rocked up on his motorbike and gave me an injection in both arms. One of them actually left me with more pain than the dog bite itself! I also asked for something for my cold and was quickly handed a small foil of unidentifiable drugs without charge. Funnily enough I didn't take them. The owner of the hotel where I stayed told me that night that all the dogs in town have supposedly been collected, neutered and vaccinated against rabies in recent times which gives some comfort, but still, you never know.

Nature in harmony. It wasn't this dog, but it's similar looking mate around the corner

It was really great that night to spend a couple of hours on a video call via Skype, to my extended family who were all at my parents for New Years Day lunch, and for a change the quality was pretty clear.

The following morning I hiked to Savitri temple, set atop a single steep lump of a hill, all on its own. Anyone who's read my blogs of late would think I've gone through some religious transformation and become a Hindu. In actual fact they have temples everywhere so sometimes I visit by chance, sometimes cause its an interesting building, and sometimes they're just unavoidable when on top of a hill you want to hike! There was a fantastic view back down over the town, to the surrounding hills and far off into the distance in all directions, and it was quite noticeable here that the town was most definitely in the desert, with sand and scrub all around. 

I was glad to visit the unique town of Pushkar, but knew beforehand that there wasn't that much to see. So less than a day after I arrived, I headed back to Ajmer on the bus with all the locals, and caught the next train to Jodhpur, feeling a little wiser and a little sorer!

Nature in harmony. Wasn't this dog either!

The End / The Start

Jaipur, India 

In this episode of Be There Dreckly... I have my first cutthroat shave by a barber, break into a fort, get stoned by a teenager and celebrate New Years Eve on a rooftop...

After a fantastic Christmas in Agra, I moved a hundred odd miles west to the city of Jaipur, known as the as the Pink City due to the colour of the buildings in it's historic walled centre. Leaving Agra Fort station at daybreak, and only forty minutes late this time, the train passed through mostly wasteland alongside some very poor neighbourhoods. The lack of toilet facilities was very apparent, with hundreds of people squatting and deficating amongst the rubbish by the tracks with no apparent shame.

Once in the countryside though things were a lot more pleasant, mostly flat with the odd isolated hill, with large green fields of crops including rapeseed - a very common crop in India. After only seeing small scale farming until now, it was interesting to see agriculture that appeared to be more mechanised, and with 1.3 billion mouths to feed I guess it needs to be. Once again I took advantage of the lack of health and safety rules in India, and spent an hour or so hanging out the train door, carefully holding the rails both sides and taking in the nice scenery, something I must say I absolutely love doing. I am of course very careful before anyone worries!

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At Jaipur, I walked to the hotel, brushing off heaps of extremely irritating and persistent rickshaw drivers vying for business. They seemed to be worse here than anywhere else so far. I managed to find a room at Pearl Palace, known as one of the best guesthouses in the state of Rajasthan, certainly the best place I've stayed on the whole trip so far, and a bargain at £5 a night for a very swish double. I headed off towards the centre on foot, getting completely lost and taking a cycle rickshaw a couple of miles to get back on track. Some people feel these are degrading for the rider, other say it gives valuable income to some of the poorest people. I agree with the latter, if I was in their position I'd feel no shame in carting people round on a bike to earn a living, and don't tend to haggle the fare as they definitely earn it. It was hilarious to pass two men on bikes, one on each end of a long ladder as they rode with it up a fairly busy road. When they came to turn off across traffic it was nearly a real Laurel and Hardy moment!

I wandered around the centre for a while, passing by the touristy places like the palace and observatory. I've seen enough already on this trip, and only tend to pick and choose only those that really interest me now. What I won't get bored of, is wandering about the real bits of the city where people are going about their daily lives. I've mentioned before cows are free to wander the streets in India, and in Jaipur at times it seemed like the streets were a giant farmyard. I saw cows, oxen, goats, pigs, chickens and even a couple of sheep wandering about, mostly picking scraps out from the rubbish, and occasionally being given a bit of fresh veg or grain.  Apparently most of them have owners, but they just don't have land on which to keep them, and cows being sacred and protected by law, are thus allowed to go wherever they want. 

The small shops of Jaipur were neatly grouped together, so you walk along passing hardware shops, then fabric shops, then paint shops, spice shops, loose tea shops, cabinet shops, ingredients, bangles, cooking oil, and barbers. I looked briefly through the window of a barbers as I passed and ten metres later just stopped. On a whim I decided to go back and have a quick trim. Now, in Sweden the cheapest haircut I saw was £14, in Germany I paid £10, but here, it's the grand sum of £0.50! However, I got what I paid for - the guy spoke good English and seemed to understand when I asked him to cut off a very small amount, only to immediately chop nearly two inches straight off before I could stop him! Once he'd finished, he offered me a cutthroat shave. 

I looked at the Indian guy next to me who was having one, and having never had it before thought it would be a good experience. It's a pretty never racking having a stranger using a razor blade so close to your throat, a real test of faith! He was very particular in applying a base cream, then lathering on shaving foam for minute or two, carefully shaving all over, washing it all off and finally applying aftershave. I was ready to pay up, but he then offered a facial massage. He was a good salesman, and intrigued again I said yes. He took a machine out of the cupboard that looked a like a drill but with a vibrating disc on the end, and slowly worked it all over my face. It felt very unnatural, and when he put right on my ears, quite painful! Finally, he offered a head massage. I'd gone this far, so why not. Once again very pleasant, and with a grand total of £2 (200 rupees) shelled out for this hour-long experience, I left the place feeling like a new man. 

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Nahargarh Fort is set up in the hills and looms over Jaipur itself. The next morning I intended to hike up there rather than take the very long windy route up in a taxi like everyone else. After walking most of the way from the hotel, I took a rickshaw the remaining short distance to the base of the hill, so I could get the driver could show me where the path started, as it was supposedly a bit tricky to find. But like many of these cockroaches, the driver made it his duty to keep stopping and starting at hotels along the way where he'd get commission if I stayed, then persistently try to make me hire his driving services for the whole day. 

He wouldn't take no for an answer and eventually my patience ran out at one such stop, so in a rare bout of rudeness I dropped part of the fare on the ground for him to gather up, and walked off. Hopefully he got the message. However, this meant finding the path was very difficult, and after a lot of searching amongst the jumble of houses, I found what I thought was the route on the map. A local showed me the way up an alley and through someone's backyard, and I scrambled up a steep rocky hill, disappointingly  finding that gate into the fort was locked after half an hours hiking. 'I guide you, fifty rupees' said a couple of kids of around ten, who were hanging round the path. I declined again and again for five minutes, whilst they followed me and grabbed my arm. 

Eventually all I could do to loose them was raise my voice and firmly tell them to leave. As I walked along the wall of the fort trying to find another entrance, next thing I know a few stones seemed to be landing around me. I turned to find one of their teenage mates lobbing golf ball-sized rocks from a fifty metres or so away. I covered my head and moved on rapidly out of his range, but to find no other entrance to the fort. Not wanting to go all the way back down the hill through all the rabble, against my better judgement I reluctantly paid the kids the fifty rupees to show me how to get in. To my surprise one of them clambered up a twelve foot high section of wall into the fort, the only way it transpired. Great. I felt safe doing it, and it was an easy enough climb with lots of hand and footholds, so I was soon in. A few minutes later, looking back down on where I'd first encountered these delinquents, they were back flying kites together, back to being normal kids. The first time in over five months that I've encountered any form of aggression from other people.

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The fort was largely overgrown inside, though the old palace at one end of the complex was interesting enough to look around, a place where an old leader used to keep his many mistresses. It was quite modest as far as palaces go, and not too gaudy and over the top. After leaving it was then apparent that I'd gone up completely the wrong path earlier that day, as I found the actual nicely paved route back to the town! I couldn't get over how many friendly people said hello as I walked past the houses and shops outside of the centre. Nor how many kites were being flown - the sky was full of them!

Back at the hotel, I was unlocking the bedroom door when someone came out of the next room. Well blow me down, it was Wayne who I'd spent Christmas with! He'd just turned up on his bike from Agra. Wayne is a fascinating guy, extremely knowledgable and full of stories. A 43 year old construction project manager from Manchester, he's spent the past four years cycling around Europe, Africa, the Middle East and now Asia, covering over 50,000 miles so far, and now visiting his 91st country! See his blog if you're interested - wmhafrica.blogspot.com . As you might expect we had a lot in common so got on well and hung out together for a couple of days. He had many incredible stories, and to be honest I've not met anyone before with such a good general knowledge of the world and it's history. I learnt more about the establishment of Israel and it's problems, how borders between countries is a fairly modern phenomenon, life in Africa and central Asia, the problems Britain has caused over the years in many problems in the world, and much much more. In return I told him a bit about cows and engineering! 

Monkey temple

After a relaxing breakfast the next morning, we walked, bussed and rickshawed our way to the nearby village of Galta which houses the 'monkey temple' - a complex of buildings in a narrow valley, amongst which thousands of mostly rhesus monkeys hang out. At first it wasn't apparent how many there were, but over time you start to spot them everywhere in the buildings, on the path, in the trees and up in the hills. All pretty passive, and quite a sight. On the way back down, in a grimy little backstreet we found an interesting local cafe by chance, and tried some interesting  new Indian dishes. We had first a giant but very thin omelette which was fried until crispy, and rolled up with curried veg inside, then afterwards a kind of Indian pizza. Both excellent, and I've not seen them anywhere before or since.

The next day was New Years Eve, and I woke up feeling under the weather with a cold, the first of any sort of illness so far on this trip. Probably something to do with sitting in the hotel's rooftop restaurant 'til too late the night before - it's been warmish by day but fairly cold by night. I felt pretty shoddy that day so just took it easy for the day and caught up with some blog and photo stuff mostly. 

I was feeling marginally better by tea time, and ended up spending the evening with people solely from my home country for the first time on this trip - with again Wayne, and an English couple I'd met in the day. The four of us were talking away and having a few beers in the hotel, until suddenly we realised it was 11.30pm and we needed to find a party for midnight. We ended up on the rooftop of the hotel next door, where they had a traditional Indian band playing and about thirty other tourists. At midnight people shouted out the countdown, and the staff set off fireworks from a terrace above. It was the dodgiest fireworks display I've ever witnessed, with the tubes being balanced on the edge of a wall and people running around everywhere, but was very good and certainly memorable, even if it wasn't the biggest, best or wildest New Years event I've been to. 

Midnight fireworks

A big thanks to everyone who has followed the blog through the journey so far. I'm now getting between 8 and 25 visitors a day from a number of counties, which makes it well worth doing, even if it's a bit of a tie sometimes. Stay in touch, your feedback is always appreciated. Happy New Year everybody, and all the best for 2014!

Mahal-y Christmas

Agra, India

I've only spent one Christmas away from home before, in South Australia five years ago. It felt nothing like the traditional festivates I'm used to, but with two friends from home visiting, a fantastic host family, a breakfast beer in the local, and an afternoon swim in the sea, it was a fantastic experience. I still love Christmas and wanted an equally great experience this time away from home. But in India, a country where only a few small pockets of people celebrate it I wasn't sure what to expect at all. In the end I decided I had a better chance of celebrating the day with fellow travellers than locals, and where in India might you have a good chance of bumping into a lot of travellers? The Taj Mahal, in the city of Agra.

Christmas Eve
Setting out from Ramnagar in the north, Agra was to be a nights train journey away with a change half way. But the plan fell apart straight away when the train left Ramnagar station two hours late. Consequently despite allowing good time for it, I'd missed the connection at New Delhi station. In the station building I was passed from pillar to post by staff in my quest to get a refund and catch the next train. On top of this, the station is renowned for being scam capital if the world, so I had one guy after the next pretending he was just being helpful then quietly trying to manipulate me to use his rickshaw, taxi, bus etc. I'm pretty sharp to these things now so quickly brushed most of them off, but it was irritating nonetheless. The next train turned out to be in a few hours time, but there was no guarantee there'd even be availability such is the demand for train seats here. I was told there was a bus leaving at that moment for Agra if I wanted it, and just pleased for a solution, went with it knowing full well I was being overcharged by three or four quid compared with everyone else for the convenience. I didn't care, there was no way I was spending Christmas in Delhi!

The bus journey was a bit slow but interesting nonetheless. I couldn't get over how smoggy Delhi was, even in the nicer and more modern southern outskirts. We passed miles of construction works for a new part of the subway line, a JCB factory producing 3DX diggers, Audi and BMW dealerships, and a few 'Cafe Coffee Day's - Indians version of Starbucks. A sign by the road said 'accidents bring tears, safety being cheers' - I'll listen out for applause the next time I see any safety. I certainly didn't see any on the bus. Everywhere I've been so far it's been apparent that whilst India drives on the left officially, people have no hesitation in flaunting the law and driving the wrong way up dual carriageways as a short cut. However I didn't expect the bus I was on to do it - to allow him to get to a cafe stop on the other side of the road, instead of driving a mile or so up the road and doing a u-turn, he passed through a gap in the central reservation, and drove head on into the oncoming traffic for about quarter of a mile! People are used to such behaviour and just beeped and swerved without effort - its fair to say no-one drives on autopilot here! At 3pm I finally got to Agra - seven hours later than I should have.

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It was not all loss that day though, as my hope for some sort of Christmas celebration panned out well when I found a hotel which was both full of other travellers, and holding a Christmas Part. On the rooftop restaurant of the hotel that night, they'd laid on a buffet of different curries, and I spent the evening hanging out with a great gang, comprising couple of fellow British guys, a German Girl, a Dutch girl and a couple of Israely guys. All were traveling separately having met there that night and had great stories, but one in particular impressed me immensely, as he was on an epic cycle tour - more about that in the next blog. Being India, of course it wasn't a normal party - the staff had lit a fire in a metal tray for warmth, but saw no harm in burning cardboard and plastic bottles, leaving us all bleary eyed and choking at times. They'd also set up a disco and one of the staff played Bhangra songs all night, constantly skipping between songs he didn't like, and having the volume either very quiet or extremely, and I mean ear burstingly, loud with nothing in between. Fatboy Slim he was not, but it was very funny all the same. We finished the night watching the staff competing against each other pulling off their best dance moves, and trying to teach us a few as well with hilarious consequences.

Christmas Eve party

Christmas Day

I awoke and went to the hotel's rooftop restaurant, and and saw it for the first time less than half a mile away. I'd heard hype did nothing to dilute peoples first impressions of seeing it, and I agree completely; for seeing the Taj Mahal for the first time was a true 'wow' moment. That image I'd seen used in glossy brochures for years was actually there in front of me - and it was stunning. Reunited with some of the guys from the previous night we all admired the view and chatted away whilst having breakfast. We then walked a mile or two to have a look around Agra fort - the home of the ruling Mughal leaders in the seventeenth century, and a very grand and well preserved place, full of red sandstone and marble carvings.

Agra Fort

Christmas Lunch, very memorable

Back on another rooftop restaurant near the Taj Mahal it was time for Christmas Lunch. Roast turkey with all the trimmings was a dream too far - instead it was of course curry! Clubbing together and sharing various dishes, the meal still had that communal and happy feel and we had a great laugh. At 3pm it wasn't time to watch the Queen's Christmas message, especially as it was 9.30am at home, but instead time to go visit the Taj Mahal itself and have a proper look. I've never been quite sure of it's purpose, but learnt that it was built in 1653 as a very grand and expensive tomb for the wife of Shah Jahan, the Mughal leader at the time and took over twenty years to build using up to 20,000 labourers. The complex was packed with tourists, both Indian and foreign as Christmas Day is an official holiday in India, though with only a tiny majority being Christian it isn't really celebrated as such. Walking through the entrance gate came the next wow moment, seeing close up the perfect symmetry of the building in front of us, faced entirely in white marble with delicate colored inlays and carvings. We wandered around for a couple of hours taking it all in, joining the thousands of tourists in snapping a load of photos. 

The Taj Mahal - there she is, in all her beauty 

After another curry with the gang that evening, I joined up with my family back in Cornwall via the wonders of Skype, who'd just retired to the lounge at my Auntie and Uncle's place after the big roast, The video connection was pretty terrible due to the slow internet here, but it was fantastic to be part of their celebrations for an hour or two. All in all a very different, yet fantastic Christmas Day.

Boxing Day

The Christmas gang slowly started to disband in different directions. But with Eva from Holland and Roshan, a fellow Brit remaining, we went to the nearby town of Fatehpur Sikri for the day on the ever rattly local bus, and later met with Wayne who'd cycled there. This was a small town of two halves - the bustling but quite poor current town centre, and the very grand sixteenth century fort looming above. I was quite struck by how many children of various ages were begging or trying to sell stuff around the fort, but despite wanting to help, it's a bad idea to give them anything as it only encourages dependency on such behaviour and keeps them out of school. The fort itself wasn't too dissimilar to Agra fort the day before as it was built by the same Mughal leaders, and architecturally was equally as grand and impressive set upon a hilltop. Many Indian tourists were out and about, with a number of the women in brightly coloured sari's, with (temporary) henna tattoos covering their hands and feet. It was also great to spend the day out again with some great fellow travellers, something I've not had the opportunity to do for quite some time.

At Fatehpur Sikri with Roshan and Eva

Locals at Fatehpur Sikri 

The day after Boxing Day

Just Eva and I remained at the hotel out of the original group, and with a few other things we both wanted to see around Agra apart from the Taj Mahal, we headed out together for the day. So many people visit the city just for the one big attraction so it was quite notable how quiet the other parts were. We walked first to the slightly run down mosque of Jama Masjid, then another large and delapadated tomb from the same era as the Taj. I'm not that much of a history buff, so the tomb itself didn't interest me much, but it was fascinating to watch a group of local farmers at work on the patch of land below by the riverbank, and cows bathing in the river. They weren't farmers as we'd think of it, but a couple of families looking after a few cows. We watched them laboriously shaping cow muck into discs to be dried out, and collecting some dried previously ready to be burnt as heating fuel. On the walk back to the road Eva spotted through a doorway, a small scale shoe factory and we asked if we could go inside to see it for a couple of minutes. The three guys were quite welcoming, and it was fascinating to see them hand crafting what seemed to be good quality shoes.

Small riverside farm making dung fuel

Shoe factory

We walked a little further on to Itimad-ud-Daulah also known as 'Baby Taj' - a tomb for one of the government ministers of the same era, and equally well crafted but even more detailed than more well known one. A rickshaw ride later through the chaotic and congested streets of Agra, we were at a cafe next door to our hotel where we ate and chatted for a few hours. Eva leads quite an interesting life in Amsterdam, working part time in a hostel, and part time on a couple of charity projects. She founded and runs foodsharing.nl - a Dutch-only website where you can advertise any surplus food you have at home that is going out of date, and donate it to locals. The interesting thing is that it's more about reducing waste than charity, thus removing the stigma sometimes associated with such schemes, and I was really impressed by her work. We had lots in common and talked for hours on all sorts of subjects, but early the next morning we were both going in different directions. So it time to say goodbye, and finally the end of the Christmas gang. I was really unsure how Christmas in India would pan out, and in the end, thanks to the great group of people I shared it with, it was way better than I could ever expect. 

Christmas Day at Agra fort - school kids on a visit wanting their photo taken with us.

Agra fort

Christmas lunch!

Four of the gang, with a tagalong

Cheeeeeese