Move along folks, nothing here to see.

Trip Start Dec 21, 2009
Trip End Mar 29, 2010

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Flag of India  , Rajasthan,
Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Jaipur.  Well, not a lot to say.  Driving through the Pink City was just fine, another half-ruined place with pretty Indian architecture.
Arriving to the outskirts of the city with a couple of hours light left, I figured it would be easy to find a budget hotel in some backpacker corner of the city and settle in for the night.  Asking around, I couldn't find anything for under a thousand (!) rupees per night, and coming along a street with loads of hotels, two of them conferred with each other and suddenly became "sold out" for the night, probably meaning dirty motorcycle Goras need not apply.
The final one, however was one of these bar/hotel/who knows what else/ kind of hotels, and wanted off the bad 1k rupes. 
After some pleading in "Hinglish" I managed to negotiate a simple bed in a dorm room with no-one else in the room on the top floor next to the wood-fired water heater.  Not too bad.  An actual locking cabinet for my stuff, and semi-hot water as well.  All this for only five hundred, half the original price quoted.  The guys were doing me a bit of a favor, I guess, as I was covered in road grime from head to toe.
Locked up my stuff, and went for a walk.  A dinner of Golgappa on the street supplemented the excellent punjabi biryani and chapati I had had just a few hours previous.  A small bottle of mcdowwells #1 up on the veranda and a bit of mendelssohn  on my little cd player, and all was well.
Except for the noise.  I mean, screaming noise.  A nervous-looking Indian businessman type kept coming up to his room (which I was sitting nearby) and bringing out bottle after bottle of hard booze, whiskey one time, gin another, vodka the next.  All at ten or fifteen minute intervals.  The din through the grate from the floor below was at times deafening, even through headphones.  Screaming ladies, and laughing men.  This is one of those common places in this country where married men come to get drunk, get a room, and probably a prostitute, somewhere away from their wives.
Eventually they all presumably got drunk enough to settle down or pass out, and I made sure to lock my room securely before turning in for the night.  Further investigation of the cabinets in the room revealed: an empty bottle of fast-acting laxative, an "extra sensitive" condom wrapper, and a used up tube of lube.  Apparently if the guys can't afford a prostitute, they lube up and do it to themselves. . .
Fortunately in the morning no-one had tried to undo my lock, as this was one of the nights where I thought it best to sleep with my knife under my pillow and my helmet buckled and ready to swing next to my bed.  In the morning all was well, and I thankfully hopped on my bike and headed across the big city of Jaipur to find the road to Ajmer, then Pushkar.   
For the life of me, I can't see Jaipur being part of the "Golden" triangle of Indian sights.  There is much to see in Delhi, and of course Agra has the Taj Mahal, but Jaipur has a fairly typical fort, and a not-that-impressive pink city.  Great place to get drunk though, I guess, and it is touted as the "Gateway to Rajastan," which I am sure is worth plenty of tourist dollars in merchandise.  The hotels are expensive, and I think this is a place made more for the package tourist than the lone adventurer (who happens to be dirty from riding the roads on a motorcycle, thank you very much).
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