Jaipur - In The Pink

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  Jaipur, India
Friday, June 17, 2005

There is not much worse than waiting for a train in India. If its not the beggars, its the potential pickpockets, or the stench, or the bodies. But there is also the fact that in front of you on the rails, at the station, is piles of human excrement. Some people think it wise to 'go' while the train is pulled up at the station.... and when they 'go' it goes straight onto the tracks. Thus its always better to arrive at the station after the train already has. Unfortunately today I was early.

Mind you, if you are catching a beautifully seated Shatabdi train like I was today bound for Jaipur, its always fine once you are on board, in the air-con and on your padded comfortable reclining seat, with edible meal service.

Jaipur is the capital of Rajasthan, but only a hand full of hours from Delhi. But it bakes, today sitting on an uncomfortable 44 degrees. It is amazing, as somehow it becomes quite routine to be subjected to that kind of heat. I even found time to spend a half hour lying in it beside the pool at my hotel. As no one is crazy enough to come to Jaipur in late June, the hotels are empty, and hence I've managed to snag a room in a (recommended) stately old home that has been converted, with majestical air-conditioned rooms, gardens, pool, fluffy towels and turbaned staff for under a lazy $20.

The Brothers Khan and Ali are alternating autorickshaw drivers who have convinced me to trust them to do a tour with them. I don't trust any autorickshaw drivers, but I'm willing to go along skeptical that their promises will be true. One of those promises is "no shopping". Khan picks me up late in the afternoon for a skoot around town to a few interesting places. He tells me that there are 10,000 monkeys at Monkey Temple. Maybe that is a little over the top, but there are dozens wandering uphill on the pathway making their way to the top. Thankfully they are friendly monkeys, not willing to steal anything from me. I'm wary of the little buggers after the infamous chip incident in Agra.

Ali then took over and took me for a spin to the Gaitor Cenographs and Water Temple, before dropping me off at an air-conditioned bar for a cleansing ale. Kingfisher Beer, a local product, is damn awful for the first few mouthfuls, but then you can't tell the difference - between it and Foster's....

I was advised by Ali to start the next morning at 10am, but by that stage it was already scorchingly hot so I was happy from the minute I was on board. He dropped me in the pink city at the City Palace, which is a combination of still-used Palace, museum and local handicrafts shopping stopoff. The buildings, clothing and arms displays are interesting, but the constant hassling as to purchasing an 8 x 10 foot Rug, Kaftan or Marble Elephant, mixed with the heat, make it almost unbearable. Most of the city area, including all of the City Palace is a shade of dark salmon pink. I'm yet to work out why, but its a very 80s color, mixed with very 17th century and beyond architecture.

Jantar Mantar is right next door, and is an Observatory built in the 1700's by the then Maharaja Jai Singh. Various huge stone instruments measure the planet locations, eclipses and the time (via a sundial), but it is a concrete square that bakes you. I looked at the massive structure of the sundial, and then at my $6 ditigal watch and thought, the poor bugger spent so much time constructing these pink massive instruments when all he needed to do was go to a market in Bangkok.

After driving past the Hawa Mahal temple ("no parking, no stopping" says Ali, and I'm not impressed), Ali starts to annoy by saying "we go and look at textiles now".

Bloody shopping I think and immediately say no. He asks if I want to be dropped back at the hotel now. "Ali, what about the Tiger Fort?" I ask. He says "Extra". Well, the 6 to 7 hour tour is a somewhat short 3 hours, so I tell him that I want to check out a few things, drive to a Museum, then he can drop me at the restaurant of my choice, but he has blown his chance of a tip and of any further trips with me. Forlornly, Ali agrees to do that, realising he has potentially screwed himself over.

I like winning in the end over these guys.

I decided to do something culturally different. Something specifically Indian. Something that I could only do in India....

Warning - the next few paragraphs contain graphic references to the sport known as Golf. Those offended by references to the sport Golf should turn away for the next few minutes...

The Rambargh Golf Club is only five minutes from town in an autorickshaw, though none of the drivers seem to know where it is. It must be an unusual request by a tourist to go there. They say when you are travelling you should try to do a few 'normal' things. I thought Golf in India might be 'normal', but I was wrong. Indian Golf is unique to India. Its not like Golf anywhere else.

The Top 18 Reasons Why Playing Golf In India Is Uniquely Indian

1) Caddie: For $3, Manu tagged along with me for the round. Back home, for $3 I couldn't get anyone to point me to the first tee, let alone carry a set of clubs, bag, 2 litres of water, tend the pin, wipe my ball and help me with club selection, for 4 hours on a 42 degree day.

2) Clubs: There are obviously not many left handers in India. The hire club they brought out for me still had their plastic wrapping on the heads. A brand new set of Maxfli Perimeter Weighted clubs. After a few holes, they worked a treat

3) The Rough: There is no additional rough in India. It is all pretty rough.

4) The Greens: They were as slow as a deluxe bus going uphill. You could putt, then walk past the ball and tend the flag yourself, if not for your $3 caddie Manu.

5) Immovable Obstructions: Ant Hills and Rat Holes are considered immovable. I had an apparent lost ball down a rat hole on the 3rd. No penalty for the drop.

6) The Local Women On Course: There are no female players, but the course is scattered with local women in colored Saris, either handing out water, or acting as greenkeepers by removing weeds by hand or brushing cut grass off the greens with a hand brush

7) Playing Groups: The first 9 was very slow, many because of a group of 5 players in the group ahead of us. Add in 5 caddies and it was like watching the US Open, with a gallery. I wanted to yell out "You Da Man!" to one player in the group with a strange backswing. A younger player in my group mentioned that "groups of 5 are very common in India. Sometimes 6, 7 or 8 players...."

8) Consecutive Holes: Players in India don't necessarily play the course in order. If it is busy, they will jump from the 6th to the 9th without hesitation, even if it means pushing in on a group who are about to leave the 8th green.

9) Etiquette: Golf is a game for gentile people, ladies and gentlemen. In India, all rules of etiquette get thrown out the window. They have no hesitation in passing you or yelling at you even if you aren't playing slow, or if they have just jumped in behind you from another hole. They play Golf like they drive...

10) Half A Round: The Indians don't finish up a half round at the 9th. They finish up at the 12th.

11) Fore!: Indian players don't yell Fore. Instead they will yell "Ball!" if it is on the way towards you. Or "Ball!" if they want to hit through you.

12) The Trees: Often they are found in the middle of fairways. But not just the odd one as an obstacle to hit around, occasionally there are dozens sitting in the middle.

13) Ground Watering: There are many sprinklers around the course. I was walking next to one when Manu said to me "Watch out Sir, the water is not fresh..." Now in India, I know that the 'fresh water' isn't fresh, so water that 'is not fresh' basically means sewer water. That explains the stench wafting over the course.

14) The 5th Hole: A 162 yard par 3, with a bunker protected green. It is also protected by a large water tank at the front, which your caddie will get in if you hit the ball in the water. For the record, it didn't happen to me, but another in the group. For me, a Par.

15) The 12th Hole: A 160 yard par 3 which is highly unique. Take a five iron from the tee to carry the road, overflow of cars from the members carpark, practice putting green, and forest of trees to a bunker protected green. For the record, Par. For the record, you'd be mad to park your car in the middle of a Par 3, except if you are Indian.

16) The 16th Hole: A monster of 510 yards. Take a 3 Wood off the tee (as I couldn't hit the Driver straight), then hit another massive 3 Wood off the fairway, over the trees to within 30 yards of the pin. Chip to within a foot and tap in for the Birdie. For the record, that's what I did. Unique? Well rare...

17) The 17th Hole: Called 'Star Crazy', a 340 yard Par 4. It is straight but that is where the regularity stops. There is no fairway, just hit over the 18th green (hope you aren't putting) towards the flag into a forest. Hope that your ball lands in a bare patch where you can get a swing, and chip over the remaining trees onto the green, if you are lucky. For the record, I took a 5.

18) The Closing 18th Hole: A Par 3 of 180 yards. Check if your backswing off the tee is going to cause your club to hit the low lying powerlines, resulting in massive electrocution and certain death. If you are lucky, it'll be during one of India's regular blackouts. Alternatively adjust to a side area on the downslope for a completely unstable tee shot. Alternatively again, do what I did - cheat. Tee off from somewhere forward away from the electrical zap. For the record 4. For the record the Par put lipped out and I was robbed.

The course is a Par 71, and I was happy to take a 90 after taking a while to get used to the clubs. And for the record, I did give Manu a tip.

Naharagarh Fort sits atop a hill overlooking Jaipur. In Jaipur tradition, it too has a salmon pink glow to it. While the city is only just below, there is an 8km road to get there. My autorickshaw struggles up in first gear at very slow pace.

The view down from the peak is a little polluted, but beautiful, with pink monuments, a glow to the lake and the sounds of muslim singing and chanting coming from the Mosques below in the city. It is the sounds of India that canät be explained or reproduced. The constant noise is at you all of the time. And the Kingfisher beer is fresh, and cold. By the time the sun has set, darkness sets in quickly. I thought it would be a quick ride home down the hill, but the autorickshaw driver crawled down. It's a winding road, and he had no headlights. Better to go slowly in the pitch black than go over the edge of a cliff. Bloody Indian Quality autorickshaws and autorickshaw drivers...

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