The Pink City
In the morning, Mohan drove us to Udaipur aiport to catch our flight to Jaipur. After checking in, there were a further three (!) security checks before we got on the plane, each one checking through our bags. The process was slow and long winded and frustrated a few people in the queue, but the various color coded stamps we received on our tickets let the organisers know exactly were everyone was in the process so we finally made it to the plane!
As we arrived to Jaipur, we organised a pre-paid taxi and proceeded to have a strange and confusing conversation with the driver about stopping to get his “mixie”. Always skeptical of some scam we were a bit doubtful, but when he took us to his parked car to collect a broken mix master from the boot, we realised that we were too suspicious for our own good - he just wanted to take the opportunity of a trip into the city to get his mixie repaired!
Jaipur was a really beautiful city, filled with contrasts - the sort of Indian city you see in large color filled photos in coffee-table books. It was full of contrasts - extraordinary architecture but filthy streets. Poverty was everywhere, in every corner of the chaos and bustle - more than we had experienced on our trip so far. Beggers were intensely persistent - grabbing and clutching at our arms and hands, pushing babies and little kids in front of us. It was exhausting emotionally - knowing that if you hand money to the person in front of you, there are dozens more who will take her place and she will still need more tomorrow.
We made our way to the hotel we had pre-booked to find no booking and no room, so headed to the hotel next door. It was the grimiest, filthiest hotel ever - it seriously looked like it had never been cleaned, surfaces were coated with a layer of ground in dirt, the cistern leaked so we had to keep the tap turned off, the bins in the halls weren’t emptied, but the beds were actually really comfy and the water was hot, so it did the job. The son of the old man who ran the place was very ernest, but his mild obsession with taking us up to the roof to admire the views was a tab creepy.
We dumped our bags, padlocked the door and headed off the old pink city. To me, it was a classic Indian city - at every intersection you could see trucks, buses, cars, autos, motorbike, bicycles, hand-pulled carts, cycle rickshaws (or ‘helicoptors’), camels, cows, people and dogs. The odd elephant as well!
Hawa Mahal, the Palace of Winds, was built in the 18th century as chambers for the Maharaj’s harem. The tall long building is made up of a honeycomb of ramped corridors and nearly 1000 windows which overlook the street below, allowing the women to take in the bustle and activity without being seen. We made our way up the ramps to the top, looking down at the bustling street below. From the top, the view extended across the city, taking in the palace, moghul style roof tops and pink sandstone buildings.
We headed down to the City Palace next, followed all the way by a group of women begging. “Restoration” had made parts of the palace look quite modern and plain, but in other areas, detailed mosaic like decorations were impressive.
In the central courtyard sat the two largest pieces of silver in the world - two huge silvers bowls, complete with traditionally dressed guards who will pose for photos in exchange for a tip. Problem is trying to get a photo without them in it!!
We took bicycle rickshaws back to our hotel - Dey’s driver was a funny old man who called his cyclo a ‘helicoptor’ and laughed and smiled the whole way. It was a fun way to travel through the bustle.
The next day we caught an auto to Amber Fort. Auto was not the best choice of transport because it was bumpy as hell and really dusty but we made it to the fort in one piece. I rode an elephant up to the top. There are 97 elephants working there and improvements have been put in place recently to make sure they are not overworked. They can only carry 2 people at a time and can only make 5 trips each day. My elephant was called Champa, and as she lumbered up the road we could see her 5 year old baby, Godi, across the pavillion, posing for photos with tourists.
The fort was gorgeous. Built of red sandstone and white marble, the style was a blend of muslim and hindu architecture. Sparse hills surround the fort and walls wind their way across the top and down to the old palace. Inside, the first stop was a Kali temple which had a beautiful atmosphere which matched its physical beauty. We wandered through and looked at the various chambers of the maharaj and his wives. A ’secret’ passage winds through the palace allowing the king to discreetly visit different wives and concubines without knowledge of the others. Beautiful stone inlays decorated the main hall and a manicured garden filled the central square.
On the way back to the city, Dey sat on the back seat of the auto, looking out the back. Although we tried to anticipate bumps and call out warnings so she could brace herself, an unexpected bump jolted her so she whacked her head on the roof. The driver’s word of wisdom was ‘memory, memory’, meaning she would have something to remember from the journey! Next time, I think we’ll travel by car!
On the street on our way to dinner, a street barber was shaving the underarms of a man! Bizarre sight which made us do a doubletake. That night, our last in Jaipur, we played Euchre down in the grotty “restaurant” at the hotel, while a huge thunderstorm rumbled around us. The fact there was a guy asleep on the floor just didn’t seem that strange in this hotel! Interested experience…