14 April - Jaipur
Trip Start
Nov 20, 2007
1
18
22
Trip End
May 04, 2011
Jaipur,
Rajasthan,
India
Thursday, April 17, 2008
To celebrate our arrival at the Pearl Palace hotel, Jonathan lay down on the bed and took a few deep breaths. He then leapt into the bathroom and threw-up his lunch in five impressive watery gushes, while simultaneously purging some earlier, less recognisable meals from the other end. Who says men can't multi-task! The toilet may flush in the opposite direction in India, but rest assured, there are still always carrots in your spew. Nothing like those little familiarities to keep you smiling
Pink buildings of the old city
!Never one to be out-done, Louisa shortly joined the festivities with her own interpretive response to contamination. We were both thrilled to find out that stomach bug symptoms are additive - those from one combine effortlessly with those from the next, yielding a wonderfully complex and expressive display. You know you've reached new levels of intimacy when you look expectantly at each other after each pit stop, waiting to hear the progress on each other's bowel movements. Louisa won the toilet relay on our first day with a grand total of 11 visits.
After a mildly delirious and restless night in our broom-cupboard of a room we decided to upgrade to a room triple the size for a surprisingly low additional Rs100. We suspect we were victims of a commission-inflated price for our first night - courtesy of the man at Sakura Hotel in Agra who found us the room (and who we can't help but suspect was responsible for our new stomach condition).
No hard feelings though - the Pearl Palace Hotel is highly suitable accommodation for the bed-ridden. Mr Singh, the proprietor of the Hotel, enjoys as bit of interior design and the quirky decor kept us well entertained
Peacock Roof
. The entire hotel has been given the once over by Mr Singh's designer eye, and the attention to detail is impressive - everything from the ornate friezes on the ceilings to the corridors and stairwells, tastefully adorned with knick-knacks. The common room with its regal furnishings was a nice respite from our room and proved conducive to making acquaintance with fellow travellers, including an Aussie girl with whom we swapped numerous travel stories. However, after two days lying in bed studying the decorative friezes on the ceilings we did identify as many as five mistakes in the painting of the complex pattern. And after countless bathroom visits we were awakened to numerous errors in the decorative, lime green tiling in the bathroom. Perhaps it is for these reasons that the hotel only sports a two star rating. We would have awarded it at least another star just for trying.
For the first few days, the few flights of stairs from our room to the roof-top restaurant were barely manageable, mainly due to the heat of the day zapping the little energy we had left. However, upon making it to the top, you are richly rewarded with an oasis offering impressive views of the city. The pink-walled terrace is scattered with eclectic, misshapen, iron furniture and lush greenery, potted in terracotta
Moon view at the sun temple
. Colour and patterns splash the walls and smatterings of Rajasthan pottery and organic metal artwork occupy little nooks and crannies. At night the restaurant's array of lighting effects, with its overhead coloured glass mosaic lanterns, fairy lights and bronze garden torches, flickers and dances to the delight of enchanted diners. The kitchen and shaded seated area rests under the cover of a remarkable Peacock roof which can be viewed from an upper-level chill out area (where the heat makes it a little hard to actually chill out). The menu at the restaurant was vast and probably quite delicious - judging by the quality of the mashed potato and vege soup that became our staple diet, easing us back into health. The third days sees us break the shackles tying us to our room. We walk through the main streets of the old city (Pink City) to the city palace. Each block is dedicated to particular commodities and we seem to walk past a hundred bike and kitchen utensils shops, while on the sidewalks, villagers sit with their colourful arrays of vegetables. Apparently Jaipur is known for shopping and with the many Indian customers keeping retailers busy we were able to enjoy the architecture and sights relatively unimpeded. Or perhaps they guessed we weren't in the market for a wok.
However, we were apparently in the market for a drum. An overly, overly, overly persistent hawker did is very best to ruin our newly restored vitality. After the usual "no thank you"s fail to penetrate his determined mind, his escalating insistence that we purchase a drum leads to us try a few alternative methods to shake him off. We first try the simple, rational approach, stating that "we won't be buying a drum because we don't want one"
window to the city
. This fails to even register. In an attempt to clarify the point, Jonathan tries to help the man see things from our viewpoint by likening his request that we buy his drum to us requesting that he buy Jonathan's underwear. So, the next few requests "You buy my drum" were retorted with "no, you buy my underwear". So what do we have here... two fellows persisting in trying to sell each other something the other doesn't want. Both reached a stalemate, neither making their sale. This seemed to dent his resolve a little, but it wasn't long before his insistence picked up again. We stepped into a brisk walk, and then a canter. He followed us keenly, banging away on his drum, pointing out its high quality, repeating his request, which had now become more of a demand. At this point Jonathan stopped the man, pointed down the road and said to him in a concerned voice "Excuse me, but I think you may have dropped your soul back there on the road - you'd better go and pick it up!" The man turned back to look, paused for a moment, but not seeing his soul anywhere, turned back to us and resumed his assault. At this point there was no option - we had to break out the secret weapon. Jonathan began dancing and singing a joyous jig and headed round the corner in the direction of the Palace. The man, either too confused, or too embarrassed to follow us, finally left us in peace!We disappeared into the palace complex for a couple of hours
Monkey temple at dusk
. We took in the sights, including a couple of impressive buildings and museums displaying numerous tapestries and textiles. Most noteworthy was a display of the pyjamas worn by the 250 kg, 1.2 m wide Sawi Madho Singh I. They honestly looked big enough to be worn by a small planet. There certainly appeared to be enough of him to share fairly between his 108 wives. There was also an armoury with vast arrays of swords and daggers, as well as a curious collection of 'nut-crackers'. Ouch. Ok, so they were probably for walnuts. We perused the numerous specialist shops and took a step inside one of the silk shops. Louisa had been considering purchasing a sari for some time, and a few of the ones they had on display caught JONATHAN's eye. The shop assistants keenly suggested to Louisa that she try one on "No cost, just try". Louisa wasn't particularly enthused by the idea, so Jonathan jokingly offered to model one instead. Not a moment later, the shop assistant had Jonathan standing with arms raised as he wrapped the silky length around his waist, gathering it at the front, wrapping twice around his chest and tossing the remainder over Jonathan's head. He found a small red bindi and located it on Jonathan's forehead to complete the ensemble. Jonathan stood demurely as the five shop assistants and a crowd of customers gathered round in amusement.
Enjoying the last rays
Before he got too comfortable, Jonathan shed the sari and inspired by how damn good it made Jonathan look, Louisa began looking through the racks for one to try on herself. After much deliberation and trying on several alternatives a suitable choice was located and a purchase made. We had a quick drink at the palace cafe - that was all we could afford - the prices were astronomical compared to all other places we've eaten at. And to add to the expense, we got stiffed by the waiter who deliberately gave us change from his pile of torn (invalid) notes. We unfortunately didn't notice until it was too late to swap. Actually, this wasn't the last time waiters, shopkeepers or rickshaw drivers in Jaipur would try to offload their dodgy money on us. Fortunately, it was the only time we let them get away with it. Each city seems to have its own pet way of trying to rip unsuspecting travellers off!
We eventually emerged from the palace and no sooner had we hit the main street than the pestilent drum merchant from earlier spotted us and pounced. Weary from our afternoon wandering we were no longer in good enough spirits to fake any niceties. Ignoring didn't do the trick either and after the harassment continued for another minute, Jonathan let slip the string of words to finally silence the man: "We don't want your f^%king drum so would you please just f*&k off!" Lo and behold, the man was struck dumb and immobile
Amber Fort
. We departed the scene feeling a curiously liberating mixture of surprise and relief.Drummer boy wasn't the only one who got on the receiving end of the verbal discharge of two liberated travel diarrhoea victims. The grand finale was rendering two rickshaw drivers speechless as they approached us like headless chickens vying for our patronage. Before they had a chance to say anything Jonathan states where we want to go and then says, "You have one chance to offer us a fair price, that's it, only one chance." Of course they try to interrupt with the usual "how much you pay?", trying to instigate a bargaining process. A pointless exercise on this occasion. "No" Jonathan says, "You give us your best price, and you have only one chance. If it is not a good price, we will ask someone else" Struck speechless, the drivers turn to look at each other, then back at us, then at each other again. One driver, knowing he has met his match and realising he has no chance of receiving an over-inflated fare, gives his friend a smile and withdraws . His friend begins to ponder his options. "Okay" he says slightly gingerly, "90 Rupees?"
Good on him for trying to call our bluff, but we had predetermined that 40 Rupees, our original fare to the Palace, was the most we were going to pay
Great wall of Jaipur
. We shook our head and said "No, thanks" and walked past him to the many other rickshaws. He eagerly followed us, repeatedly calling out offers of reduced fares, by 10 Rupees at a time, like he was hosting a reverse auction. We continued to walk on, sticking to our original principle of giving the man only one chance. A passing rickshaw driver decided to capitalise on the situation, offered us the fare we were after, and we gave him our custom. The original driver missed out on the fare, but he seemed to have a lot of fun and enjoyed being put on the spot. A little disappointed he admitted defeat but gave us a cheerful wave and laughed it off. In fact Jaipur did a lot to restore the balance in our love hate relationship of rickshaw drivers. The next day, much to our surprise, we find out 1/2hr before check out time that our room at Pearl Palace is no longer available and there are no other free rooms at the hotel. It seems the Pearl Palace is a little too popular and favours running at capacity above offering loyalty to existing guests when it comes to accepting bookings for rooms. We contemplated leaving for Delhi that night but we hadn't seen the main attraction of Jaipur, which was Amber fort, so decide to stay another day and move to a nearby hotel.
During a short ride to the train station to organise tickets for the next day we were entertained and impressed with a hard-case larrikin rickshaw driver, "Honey"
Welcome to my Palace
. Quite an appropriate nickname as he oozed sickly sweetness. He seemed to empathise with the hassles that western tourists encounter and he had us in fits of laughter so we decided to hire him as our driver for the next day - with the understanding that he would not take us to any of his friend's shops and pressure us to buy goods so he could earn a commission.That evening we encountered his just as charming brother "Ali" who drove us to the Temple of the Sun God and the Monkey Temple in Galta. We arrived just before sunset and climbed the 200m ascent to the Sun temple which is perched high overlooking the surrounding plains. The sun began to set in the distance behind layers of dust so it was a quick stop. Next we made our way down the other side of the hill - a rocky gorge, in which the monkey temple is neatly nestled. In dusk's pale glow we felt scrutinised by the eyes of the thousand monkeys who lined the path. At the bottom lies a temple built around an impression found in the rock face resembling a monkey. We stayed while a temple guardian gave us some background history and made us repeat the names of the important gods several times until he was satisfied that we remembered them. Of course these were promptly forgotten as the last few minutes of light begin to disappear. We didn't get to spend much time looking around the temple as it was a bit of a hike to the rickshaw and we didn't fancy doing that in the dark - the gathering of monkeys seemed to be silently threatening to advance and use us as a sacrificial offering for their god. However, unscathed, we made it back to the safe haven of the rickshaw and enjoyed the quick tour of the pink city in the night lights on the way home.
The next morning we met up with Honey and he took us to Amber Fort, the most impressive sight in the city
An elephant reception
. Like an illustration in a fairytale book, Amber fort sits with majestic, commanding presence atop a stark rugged hill. We chose to climb to the fort from the road rather than take the brightly painted elephants or contrasting overpriced grey jeeps. On the way up we passed several sun-beaten, sari-wrapped women toiling the rough ground with their bare hands, collecting stones and rocks to be used in maintenance work being carried out on other parts of the fort. They were eager to have us take their photo - presumably the tips they receive from tourists wanting to capture them on film often proves more lucrative than their meagre wage.The fort is of a grand scale, sprawling across the ridge, covering a vast expanse of land. High stone walls frame its boundaries and snake off into neighbouring valleys, reminiscent of the Great Wall of China. Upon entering the main courtyard of the fort, a grand staircase invites you to begin your exploration. A maze of corridors, rooms and courtyards, all imbued with individual character and purpose, expands before you as you turn each new corner. Public meeting spaces lead to private quarters and multi-level living spaces, including dining areas with curiously low ceilings. Vast, vaulted, naturally air conditioned catacombs lead to underground water storage tanks big enough to supply a small city. The fort offers stunning views across the valley and into the city of Jaipur.
After a couple of hours of repeatedly getting lost and finding ourselves again, we decide we'd better leave the other-worldly haven behind and make the most of Honey. On the way back from the fort we pass a couple of camels on the side of the road and succumb to Honey's suggestion that we have a ride
View from Fort
. He negotiates a reasonable price for the ride (allowing for a small commission for himself) and the camel is asked to kneel down so we can mount it. Once we're happily nestled atop its hump, it straightens its back legs and we sway forward, holding on tightly to avoid tumbling forward over its head. Next it straightens its back front legs and we come to a sudden realisation of how far we have to fall. We are led a few hundred metres up the road and then back again. It's quite unnerving being so high up off the ground and the saddle certainly isn't designed for comfort. Jonathan complained of a sore arse most of the way and his voice had raised a few octaves by the end of the ride.On close inspection, the camel is a little malnourished and evidently mistreated by its shady owners. And the young lad who leads it while we ride appears to be working for free - judging by his desperate attempts to glean a tip from us at the end of the ride. We jump back in the rickshaw and reflect on the experience while the two men who apparently own the camel scuffle over the money we've paid then like two stray dogs fighting over a bone.
Final stop on the way back to the hotel to gather our bags is a textile factory run by some friends of Honey. Apparently offering good prices, and with no-pressure sales people, we humour Honey and agree for him to take us there for a look
Alice the Camel
. We assure him we won't be buying anything, but he seems hopeful we may change our minds once we see what they have on offer. We are greeted by a moderately uneasy man who shows us a small factory where metal powder is being applied to fabrics to create glittery patterns. He proudly draws attention to the fact they don't use child labour in the factory, but seems oblivious to the fact that the men who work there must be having years trimmed from their lives by constantly breathing in the fine metallic dust. None of them wear masks and the room is filled with a choking haze of glitter. The man even jokes "Have you ever seen a gold man?" and then points to one of the workers arms, which is covered by a fine layer of golden particles.Next we are lead into the factory showroom where we are seated and their full range of products is presented. Nothing takes our eye but it is good to see the range of bedding and clothing on offer. We eventually tire and excuse ourselves. Honey seems a bit disappointed that we didn't make a purchase but is quick to find his sense of humour again. It seems that despite our clarity at the outset, he was hoping to offset the Rs300 we agreed to pay him for the day's service with a couple of commissions. We had him take us back to the Pearl Palace where, for old-time's sake, we climbed to the roof top restaurant and partook in a bowl of vege soup and mashed potato. Then we dropped by our hotel, picked up our bags and it was off to the train station. We paid Honey the money for his services, and happily tipped him a bit extra for restoring our faith in rickshaw drivers, agreeing to recommend him to any of our friends who might come to Jaipur.
