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Our flight from Bangkok to Bombay was at 17:55, check in at 16:30. We had a choice of a relatively expensive taxi ride, or a very cheap public bus ride. Since by lunch time, we had done all the walking and sight seeing we wanted to do, and since we had had to check out of the hostel, we decided to allow the extra travel time and take the bus. The bus stop was quite close to the hostel, and we didn't have long to wait. Bags went up at the front by the driver, Jill got a seat, but I had to stand. Soon after we got on, the heavens opened, and all the windows had to be closed, so it soon became like a sauna. Water was coming up through the floor by the driver, and it got uncomfortably close to our bags. It didn't seem to be the rain which slowed down the traffic - just Bangkok's routine horrendous traffic, but it was a very slow journey - two hours or so, and I never got a seat. Fortunately, by the time we got off, the rain had stopped, or we would have been starting our journey soaking wet. To get across the road to the airport, the safest way seemed to be to cross the railway tracks to the station, then take the overpass across the road. By this time, we were desperate to get to the Cathay Pacific lounge for a cold beer, but we had to wait over an hour for checkin to start. The checkin counters were operated by generic staff, not Cathay Pacific's own, and they were less than efficient. Eventually, we got through all the formalities with plenty of time to get the cold beer before going for the plane.
We arrived in Bombay on schedule at 20:30, and to our surprise got through immigration and customs in less than half an hour; we had been led to believe that it could take up to three hours. We saw that Indians did not fare so well - most of them had to take everything out of their baggage for inspection. We had arranged to share a taxi into town with two American girls we had met in Thailand and who were on the same flight, but we had to wait quite a while for them to collect their baggage and get through customs and immigration. At the airport, there was a booking counter for hotels, all of which were very expensive, but given the time of night, and the fact that they would supply free transportation (which would save us the cost of a fairly expensive taxi ride), we decided to book one. We picked one of the more modestly priced, and were assured that it was a good hotel in a convenient location.
It was pouring with rain here too - not the welcome to Bombay that we expected! We made a dash to the taxi stand without getting too wet, and at least it was warm rain. We were impressed with the prepaid taxi bookings, although all the taxis were very beat up, not the least the one we got. It only had one windshield wiper operating, and that only gave marginal visibility. In common with most other vehicles, he drove without lights and any form of road discipline. Fortunately traffic speed was not excessive. There didn't appear to be any street lighting either. A multi-vehicle traffic accident involving an overturned truck soon after leaving the airport didn't help inspire confidence, and on the way we narrowly escaped collision several times. We understood the need for the sign on the dashboard saying "Help us God".
As we entered the city proper, everywhere looked really seedy in the drizzle; all the shops are closed up by now of course, with people already huddled anywhere they could get out of the rain to sleep. The vicinity of the hotel was especially seedy looking, with the entry in a back street, and up a flight of grubby stairs with people sleeping on them. Jill and one of the American girls went to inspect the rooms, and a rat ran out! The desk clerk never batted an eyelid and obviously thought us strange when we refused to take another room instead, given the time of night. Now we were stuck with having to pay for the taxi ride this far and negotiating with the driver to take us somewhere else (he hadn't bothered to drive off, so he must have expected something of the sort). We didn't really even know where we were, and it well after ll o'clock so we were pretty well at his mercy when he quoted us a price to the Marine Drive area, where according to our guidebook there were supposed to be several mid-range hotels (at Bombay prices, this puts them above Rs 400 a night). The first few places we tried were all full. Eventually, just before midnight, we found one that had some space, and it was fairly passable - Rs 444 a night with communal bathroom, but we had run out of options by this time. We did have an enormous room with a balcony overlooking the sea, along with an ancient telephone and a non-functional TV set. By the time we were settled, it was after midnight, but we were desperately thirsty so all four of us went round the corner to a restaurant/snack bar that was still open and quite busy. At this point, we were rather apprehensive about the prospect of three more months in India.
We slept well and were up early. First went out to find some breakfast. There was a sort of kitchen in the hotel across from our room that looked like it did at least tea and toast, but it didn't look very salubrious, and the two men in it looked a bit derelict. Even though by the time we got out it was close to 8 o'clock, almost nowhere seemed to be open - this was our first intimation that things don't start early in India. Eventually, we found a restaurant open - rather a dinghy place that didn't make for a good appetite. Jill settled for special tea (expecting that this would be a pot with separate milk and sugar, rather than the usual Indian pre-milked and sugared tea) and "toast butter jam", a menu item invariably presented as a single phrase, and I had tea and a spicy variety of scrambled eggs. This being our first experience of an Indian restaurant, we really didn't know what to expect. The tea did come as "separates", but just with two cups of the blackest, strongest tea imaginable. The waiter must have seen Jill pulling a face when she tasted it, because he brought a cup of hot water, (although she could have used a whole pot) laughingly adding "Too strong?" The toast was quite elegant, two small, thin slices of bread cut into neat fingers; Jill had to order a second helping. We were a little taken aback by the food prices here too.
Next step was to head for the India Tourist Office and the Foreign Tourist Railway Reservation Office, where we wanted to get tickets to our next stop, Udaipur.. Fortunately, we were right in the vicinity of both of these, which were next door to each other in the magnificent Raj-built Central Railways headquarters building (Western Railways had a similarly magnificent set of buildings adjacent to Victoria Terminal). The tourist office was open first, and we picked up a lot of useful information and maps, as well as information about the Rajasthan Tourist Office where we hoped to make reservations for the camel fair in Pushkar at the end of the month. Then we went into the reservation office, still half an hour before opening time. The regular office was on the ground floor, the foreign tourist section upstairs. There was only one person before us, and a row of chairs to sit on while you waited in line. The clerk actually arrived and started work 10 minutes before opening time; he was very proud of this and made sure everyone knew it. He was very helpful though, and within 15 minutes we had our computerized tickets to leave Bombay Central that evening, 1st class coupe (that's a 2 person compartment), even though you did have to provide information like your father's name on the form you had to fill in. Nowhere else did we see such order and efficiency, and it gave us a false sense of how things work.
Feeling good about the experience, we went back to our hotel and related the good news to the American girls who were in need of some good news at this point, exchanged addresses, and checked out. We had the problem of disposing of our luggage for the rest of the day. We weren't very confident about asking the hotel to look after it for us so we decided to take the bags to Bombay Central Station to leave them in the left luggage office. There were frequent commuter trains from Churchgate to Central, so that shouldn't have been any problem. It took a while to check out of the hotel because the bill had to be paid in foreign currency (this is the case at most mid- to upper-priced hotels catering primarily to foreigners), and for some reason they had to wait to make a copy of the foreign exchange certificate. We walked the short distance back to Churchgate, and were able to get on a train immediately. By now the rush hour was long over, and the train was not crowded. When we got on and were waiting for the train to go, a little girl in a ragged, grubby dress came up and started begging for "Baksheesh, sahib". When we had ignored that for a while, she obviously decided that more drastic action was needed to attract our attention, so she got down on her knees and started kissing my feet! Eventually, the train set off, but within five minutes it had stopped. We sat, and sat, and sat ... We didn't notice immediately, but people started disappearing from the train. It was only when the people in the section by us got up that the realisation dawned that the train wasn't going anywhere - it must have been taken out of service after the rush hour, and had been taken out of the station to be parked. Never mind that there were people on it. We had to clamber down with our baggage (it's a long way down when there is no platform!), and then walk back along the tracks to the station; railway tracks in India are not the nicest place to walk. This helped to even out our first rosy impression of Indian Railways. We got another train, took the short ride to Central, put our baggage in the left luggage office, and took another train back without further incident.
On all the Bombay suburban railway stations, there were posters advertising abortions - only 80 rupees (just over $5).
We spent the rest of the day sightseeing, seeing plenty of sights we would rather not have seen: beggars, sidewalks being used as living quarters and bathrooms, (maidans, the name given to large commons or parks, being choice spots for the morning "squat"), formerly majestic buildings in various stages of decay; some of these looked elegant from a distance but turned out to be derelict. Lots of people, litter and potholes everywhere. Nearly everything had a rundown look. Still, there is a lot of photogenic architecture, some beautiful old trees and little parks which doubled as children's playgrounds. Faded glory seems an apt description. We were pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to cross the road here, especially after Bangkok, as traffic is relatively light, not many private cars around. We set off to walk to the Rajasthan Tourist Office - not too far according to our map, but the map was confusing, and we didn't find it immediately. Still, it didn't really matter, since it was giving us a chance to explore a bit and see some of the vicinity. We bought ourselves hats from a street vendor for a couple of dollars. Jill's said "Cricket India" on it, mine "Tata Electric" (the name of a big manufacturer).
We took some time finding a place to have lunch; most places didn't look too appetizing, and my stomach was "off" anyway. We found a gem of a place for lunch - a thali restaurant which obviously catered to the business lunch crowd. It was very crowded, and we were directed upstairs, which was "semi-air con", whatever that is. We had a small table to ourselves, but all the tables were so close together it was almost like sharing. We saw other people being brought what looked to be large and appetizing platters of food, so we indicated we would like the same - there didn't seem to be any menus in evidence, although we saw them later. Obviously what we got was, we learned later, a Bombay thali. A thali is a circular stainless steel tray about 14 inches diameter. On this were about 8 small stainless steel cups arranged around the edge, each containing a different soup or vegetable dish, and one containing yoghurt, or curd as they call it. Then they keep filling the centre of the tray up with hot puris, a puffy, deep-fried bread, which you use to scoop up the contents of the little cups. An excellent meal, even if I couldn't do it full justice. I did eat Jill's curd as well as my own, hoping it would have its reputed effect of settling the stomach. Cost for this "all you can eat" meal was about 65 cents! We were also pleased to find that we could get ice-cold soda water, rather than "pop", which you always find yourself having to drink to excess in tropical countries. We were able to drink soda throughout India, just having pop when we felt like it, or in places (like railway stations, where the choice was restricted. Soda water was invariably cheaper than pop.
INDIAN POP!Until very recently (September 1990), American soft drinks such as Coca Cola were not available in India, since the parent companies were not allowed to operate in India unless they formed an equal partnership with an Indian company, and released the formulations to the partner. There were Indian versions of most common drinks: many colas such as Thums Up and Maha Cola, and Double Seven and other lemon-lime drinks. However, Pepsi obviously complied recently, since Pepsi and 7 Up are starting to flood the market. Interestingly, they have adopted a larger bottle than most existing Indian companies, who are now starting to follow suit. Our choice of what we drank often depended on the bottle size! |
After lunch, we managed to find the Rajasthan Tourist Office, a very dinghy office upstairs over the Rajasthan State Crafts Emporium, also fairly dinghy. However, the man that could give us information about booking for Pushkar was out of the office until late afternoon, so we gave up on it. We were going to be arriving in Rajasthan in 24 hours and we would probably do better there.
We continued to walk around, soaking up the atmosphere. The area we were in was one of the main shopping streets. Archways covered the sidewalks, which were almost blocked by street vendors selling mostly clothes and cheap electronic goods such as transistor radios and cameras. We were repeatedly asked, sotto voce, if we wanted to change money, or if we had anything to sell - cameras, watches? (On our way back through Bombay at the end of the trip, we did try to sell my old Seiko watch, but they weren't interested). We eventually (2 stops for cold drinks later) made our way down to Colaba and the Gate of India, the massive red sandstone arch which was most people's first sight of India when they used to come by sea. We also inspected the adjacent, deluxe Taj Mahal hotel, particularly the bathrooms; they were quite adequate! By now it was time for dinner. Although neither of us were that hungry, we thought we had better eat what we could before embarking on a 24 hour train journey. We finished up eating at two places so that we both got something we felt like. Between the two eating places, the heavens opened, and we had no rain gear. We were faced with quite a long trip back to Churchgate station from where we could get the local train out to Bombay Central to catch our train. We did find out what number bus to get, but we hadn't figured out how to read the Hindi (or was it Maharashtri?) script used for the numbers, so we tried to get a taxi. Obviously, when it rains, like anywhere else, taxis disappear. When we did find one, but he wasn't interested in taking us to Churchgate - not far enough I suppose, so eventually we found one to take us right to Bombay Central. There is a large bustling concourse at the station, piles of luggage and freight everywhere, along with the hundreds of passengers waiting for trains, many of whom had essentially set up camp. In the darker corners, the homeless were huddled up for the night.
We had a couple of hours to wait for our train so, since we had first class tickets, we thought we would take advantage of the First Class Waiting Room. The first problem was finding it; it was up a difficult to find staircase on the mezzanine floor, past the Ladies Waiting Room, and there was a door labelled "First Class Passengers Waiting Room" - locked! However, a nearby unlabelled door was open, and led into the same room. It was a large room lit by bright fluorescent lights. The bottom four feet of the walls were marble, then badly water-stained, peeling painted concrete. There were 8 large electric ceiling fans covered with a thick coating of grime. Ancient, faded sepia prints decorated the walls; washing hanging up to dry completed the decoration. There was an assortment of odd furniture, but most of the three dozen or so occupants had made themselves at home on the floor, spreading out rugs or sarongs to sleep on. Some even got undressed to settle down, and had pillows and covers.
Our train, the Gujarat Mail, which would take us to Ahmedabad where we change for Udaipur, was due to leave at 9:30 pm, so we went down half an hour before that to find our place. Each reserved car (bogey is the term Indian railwaymen use) has a list of all the berths and the names of their occupants, along with a cryptic little code like M26 or F38. If we hadn't read The Great Railway Bazaar (Paul Theroux), we might not have realized that this was the person's sex and age! We soon found our names, and that we had been fortunate enough to get one of the rare two berth sleeping compartments (most first class sleepers are four berth), as we had been told when we made our reservation.
In line with our romantic ideal, we were expecting our bedroll to be delivered soon after we got on. We saw the conductor busily delivering them down the corridor, but none came for us. We were tired and ready to settle down, so I went to see what had happened. It turned out that we had been mistaken in our assumption that you automatically get a bedroll in first class - you had to order them, and we hadn't. The conductor said he would see what he could do, so we kept waiting, but still none came. Next time I went to look for him, he had disappeared. Fortunately, we were fairly well equipped to make up our own - sheet sleeping bags (youth hostel style), inflatable pillows, and sarongs as an extra cover. We found these to be perfectly adequate, and never bothered about bedrolls on any of our subsequent overnight railway journeys.
We had a fairly good night's sleep, and got up at 6:00 am to get organised for our train change at Ahmedabad. The train arrived 10 minutes early at 6:20, so we had plenty of time to make our connection to the Ahmedabad - Udaipur Express (Express is one step down from Mail, and stops at just about every other station; the even slower trains are Fast Passenger, and Passenger). We had been concerned about making this connection, since there was only 10 minutes to spare, and only one train a day. We had to go from Platform 1 to 10, and the train was there, but had no engine on. This train was fairly old and beat up, with just one first class coach. We shared a four berth compartment with two Australian girls, both doctors. While we were sitting on the train waiting, we noticed a man lying stretched out on a bench on the platform, with his wife squatting on her heels beside him. We had already started to realise that men did not treat women with much courtesy, and we thought that this was an example, but later some people came and picked him up and wheeled him off on a luggage trolley - he had a drain tube and bottle attached. Eventually, the engine arrived an hour late - an old-fashioned steam engine. Going out through the suburbs of Ahmedabad was not very appetizing, with the railway right of way lined with people squatting down to do their early morning business, backsides to the train. (Paul Theroux's "Turd World"!). The smell of the years of accumulated excrement was clearly discernible, as it was entering or leaving any major city by train.
There was a constant stream of black grit and dust coming in through the window. We could only see out of one side because the window shutter on the corridor side wouldn't stay open. Visibility out of the train isn't that good at the best of times - small windows, thick window frames accommodating the sliding glass and the metal shades/insect screens, plus four thick bars.
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The view from the window was constantly fascinating. The Gujarati women were very colourfully dressed, and often walking around with one or more brass water pots on their heads; one had three pots stacked up on her head. It wasn't long before we were out in flat open farmland, with very few settlements. With the population density of India, we were surprised how lightly populated some areas were. We spotted a variety of animal life - camels pulling carts, water buffalo ploughing fields, pigs, goats, troupes of large grey monkeys (langurs) which really bounded around, and lots of birds, from wild peacocks to vultures. Most common was the ubiquitous little chipmunk-like animal - the palm squirrel.
The conductor gave us some bananas, which we later found he must have lifted from some baskets of bananas that were being carried as freight. They weren't quite ripe enough, but we were glad of them.
After midday, the terrain started getting hillier and drier, and less extensively cultivated. By now, roads were only occasionally visible, and were usually deserted. The small amount of traffic consisted of camel or ox carts; we didn't see a single motor vehicle from about noon until we arrived on the outskirts of Udaipur in the evening.
We had expected there to be some sort of meal service on the train, and we were not well stocked with food or drink. Nothing came, and there were minimal facilities at the small stations we stopped at - usually just someone with a big pot of "drinking water" and a ladle. By early afternoon, we had finished all our water and were starting to get very thirsty. We eventually managed to buy a kilo of oranges, and ate all of them.
We arrived in Udaipur at dusk, just after the sun had set in a dusty, hazy glow. We were "picked up" by an autorickshaw boy, who took control of us. Autorickshaws are three wheel, two seater taxis, based on a motor cycle. The station was a little way out of the city, and during the journey in, we found out that Udaipur had been having race riots for two weeks and was under curfew. There were heavily armed police everywhere, and all the roads into the city centre were blocked off. Four people had been killed the previous night, one shot by police, and three moslem stores burned. We started to wonder where we were being taken in the autorickshaw, since he never asked where we wanted to go; we seemed to be going around the city, and it was pretty dark and deserted. We did go halfway around to the north side, where he took us to a nice hotel, the Hotel Rampratap, right on lake Fateh Sagar. We were desperate for a drink by this time, then had dinner - a very bland potato curry, with no chutneys or other accompaniments, a real disappointment for our first curry in India. The manager told us the next day when he asked how we were enjoying the food that, since most of their guests were foreigners, they didn't use much spice.
We also found out more about the problems. Serious problems had started at the start of October,and the city had been under curfew since then, but schools had been closed for at least two months. The trigger had apparently been a moslem festival, then someone claiming that the eye of a hindu god had been stolen by a moslem. The curfew was now being lifted from 7:00 am to 11:00 am, but it wasn't going to give us chance to do too much. That evening, we read in the newspaper that there were troubles of this sort in many parts of India - Karnataka was the worst, and the constitution there was suspended and President's Rule was imposed. This was to be where we were going after Rajasthan and Goa. Many other areas of India had "restriction orders" in force - these prohibited assemblies of more than five people, among other things. We had not heard about any of these problems before leaving home - only the major problems of Kashmir and Punjab, which had helped us to decide to omit Northern India from this visit.
It was very pleasant to sit outside having breakfast in the sun. Good stuffed parathas, (Jill's favourite at this point), puris and curd for breakfast, along with strong tea, but at least we got it as "tray tea" - milk and sugar separate. Every time we had tea at this hotel we asked for it very weak, "weaker than last time" we said, and eventually they got the message.
We set off to walk into town, but took a wrong turning somewhere, so we got an autorickshaw and asked him to take us to the City Palace. There were cows wandering everywhere, lying down in the middle of the road, and no one bothered them; the traffic just goes around them. The City Palace was closed because of the troubles, but we found that the curfew was going to be lifted from 7:00 am to 7:00 pm today. There were still armed police at every intersection, although many of them were lounging about and looking pretty relaxed.
We wandered around the area near the City Palace - Narrow winding streets with steps in many places. There were lots of "art shops" and we were frequently accosted by touts wanting us to go to see the work at the "art school" - no obligation, of course! There are so few non-Indian tourists around that we stick out like a sore thumb and all the merchants are after our business. We learned later in discussions later with various hotel managers that tourism was really down from previous years, partly because of the immediate troubles, and partly because of the longer term Kashmir and Punjab situations. Jill went in a perfumer's shop and bought some jasmine oil. We are fascinated to see monkeys playing on the rooftops, jumping from one house to another across alleyways. The palm squirrels are very common, scavenging in the streets where we expected to see rats. We went in the Jagdish Temple (1651), approached from the street by an extremely steep flight of steps. Bird seed was scattered around to attract pigeons, why I can't imagine, but there were feathers and droppings everywhere, and you had to walk around barefoot. We were surprised how messy the area round the palace was - piles of garbage everywhere. We expected better from a major tourist spot like Udaipur.
Stayed in the city until about lunchtime, but I started getting stomach cramps, so we got an autorickshaw back to the hotel and stayed around there for the rest of the day. There were some renovations going on at the hotel - they were adding more rooms on the second floor. Most of the work was being done by women who formed an endless procession almost all day, carrying buckets of sand on their heads, moving very slowly. Much of the manual labour we saw being done anywhere was done by women, and they made no concessions in their dress - still wore their saris and veils, and were barefoot. Jill did a huge load of laundry in the bathroom and hung it out on a line put up by one of the boys, being careful not to get in the way of the women passing to and fro carrying building materials on their heads.
We went a short walk near the hotel before dinner - there were some pretty fancy houses in the neighbourhood; these seemed to be occupied by civil servants, doctors and the like.
After a long and leisurely breakfast (we had no choice in this), we took an autorickshaw to the City Palace which reopened today. The police were much less in evidence in the streets on the way there. We spent a couple of hours wandering around the palace - it was very impressive with all its inlays, carvings and painting, but it was definitely running down. Clearly, any maintenance that is being done is inadequate. The only other tourists who were there, with very few exceptions, were Indians, who are very noisy in groups. There were some excellent views over the city and lake from the higher points of the palace.
We then walked through town south of the palace to get to a park that supposedly went down to the lake - it doesn't any more, if it ever did. There was a bit of a zoo there, but it was pretty scruffy. Then we walked down Lake Palace Rd to the boat jetty, and back through the City Palace into the old town, where we wandered around some of the narrow, winding streets - with a little bit of care and attention the place could be so attractive, but the piles of garbage everywhere don't help.
All the time we were walking around, we were joined by small boys, who asked what were becoming very familiar questions: "What is your name?" "Where do you come from?" When you reply "Canada" to the latter question, you are often immediately told "capital Ottawa, prime minister Mulroney." Inevitably though, you reach "Come to see the paintings at my grandfather's shop. Just look." It didn't help when you say that you don't like Indian paintings. One barber tried to get me into his shop: "Your face is dark - it makes you look old. Let me shave you and make you look young."
By now, it was early afternoon, the sun was hot and we were ready for some shade and something to eat and drink. Up some steep steps at the end of an alley near the Lhal Ghat (steps down to the lake), we found the Natural Attic Restaurant where we spent a pleasant hour or so. It was an airy simple little place, with a 180 degree panoramic view over the lake, including the Lake Palace, City Palace, and some waterfront mansions. There was the constant thudding of wooden paddles at the dhobi (clothes washing) ghats down below. Men and women were bathing in the water, shampooing their hair. We were looking down on whitewashed flat roofs, with women clad in bright saris hanging out washing. One house had colourful striped rugs hanging out of the window openings. According to the Lonely Planet, this restaurant is always full of travellers, but we were the only ones there. We enjoyed our ginger tea, mawa (a fudge-like dessert made from milk) and hot halva, and chatting with the owner. Business had been bad for two weeks - all the foreign tourists, which they depended on, had left, but they were hoping for some improvement now that the curfew was lifted during the day. We walked back to the hotel for a rest, before taking an autorickshaw to the puppet museum, hoping to see a puppet show and folk dances which were supposed to be on from 5 until 6 o'clock. We found that the area had no electricity, the museum was in total darkness, and no show. Jill had to visit the bathroom there; not very pleasant, but you soon see why - another woman came in and squatted down in the middle of the floor, ignoring the stalls!
We walked around that area for a while until it was time for dinner. The hospital was near there, and so there was a whole block of drug stores. There was a very solid old stone church of the Church of North India, but we couldn't get in. Also in the area were a lot of street vendors selling footwear and warm clothing - sweaters and parkas. The vendors were definitely non-Indian - our guess was that they were Tibetan. We encountered them in many other places later. We had dinner at Berry's restaurant, one of the fancier restaurants in town - they had a generator going outside to provide a light and keep a fan going - where the food is good and the waiters snooty. The power eventually came back on while we were eating dinner. Afterwards, we walked back to our hotel, passing an encampment of gypsies, or some similar nomadic group, all squatting around little dung fires - quite picturesque in the dark, but a real eyesore during the day.
We spent the rest of the evening talking to the manager of the hotel, and had to read all through his "comments" book before writing in our own. Most of the comments were very glowing - "Best place we have stayed in 3 months in India", "marvellous food" (we found it very bland). After much thought I wrote: "Unlike many previous guests we are just starting our Indian journey at the Rampratap. If what everyone says is true, we can only expect things to go downhill from here". The manager got tickets for our bus journey to Jodhpur tomorrow.
We packed up and checked out, but we were allowed to leave our bags in our room. We took an autorickshaw to the Tourist Bungalow for an appointment with the Rajasthan Tourist Development Corporation manager, Mr K.P.Singh, to arrange for accommodation at the tourist bungalow at Ajmer for the Pushkar camel fair. We paid for the telephone call, but that had to be booked, so Mr Singh said he would send the information to our hotel. Then we continued in the autorickshaw to Shilp Ram - a cultural village 7 km out of town, right in the country. We followed a quiet road right along the edge of Lake Fateh-Sagar. When we got to Shilp Ram, the gate was closed with a "CLOSED" sign on it, but the policeman on duty let us in. The village, which was new and still being developed, covered a large area. The buildings represented a wide variety of dwellings from different parts of Rajasthan, Gujarat, Goa and Maharashtra; many were still being finished off, with artists painting designs on them. From October 1st to 15th, the village was supposed to be the site for a big craft fair which had been advertised internationally, but it had been cancelled because of the troubles. We spent a couple of hours there - the only visitors, and then took the autorickshaw, which had waited for us, back to town. We had a big argument about the fare - he wanted more than we had agreed on at the beginning, but we stuck to the original amount. Throughout our three months in India we found these arguments to be fairly standard. Some travellers deal with it by giving the driver what they think is reasonable. You still get the scene at the end but you have cut out the one at the beginning where you haggle over the price.
We went back to the Natural Attic Restaurant for lunch, noticing there was less garbage around the old town now and guessed that the lifting of the curfew must have allowed some cleaning. We had a delicious Kashmiri stuffed paratha, and cardamon tea. Sat for a while drinking tea, until it was time to go on to the puppet museum. It was open today; it tended to be a rather technical background on various types of puppet show. We were also flagging by now - we had been on the go all day except for the time we had spent in the Natural Attic. In the museum, we saw a small Punch and Judy type puppet show, which was very clever. Then we went into the theatre next door, for the main puppet show and some folk dances. Both were excellent.
We walked back to the hotel, had dinner there, and cleaned up - we were able to use our room and have a shower - before taking an autorickshaw to the bus station. Our first experience of Indian long distance bus travel with the overnight journey to Jodhpur was not encouraging. (In fact, we vowed never again to travel overnight by bus if we could avoid it.) We were told to get on one bus, but after we had been on that one for a few minutes, we were told to get off that and on to another (we can't read the destination sign on the front of course). Then they told us to get off that bus, but I told Jill to stay while I went off to the office. After fighting to get service there, I was directed to another office across the street, but that was no help. I had a brief moment of panic when I thought a bus leaving was the one Jill was on. I got back on the bus with Jill, and just sat there, since we were confident the bus was going to Jodhpur - they never suggested that it was the wrong bus. After much arguing, and us refusing to get off, they tried to make us go and sit at the back, but we weren't having any of that. we had reserved tickets with the seat numbers on, and as far as we were concerned, that was that. We never found out what the game was, but we suspect someone on the bus wanted better seats, ie ours, and they thought we could be manipulated. What would have happened if we had got off the second bus, I don't know. Before the bus left, the aisle was filled with little cane stools, and people sat on those, so the bus was really crowded.
The journey was an absolute boneshaker - we've never experienced anything like it, but it was like driving over a washboard. We couldn't see what the road surface was like in the darkness, but it was a main highway. It was absolutely impossible to sleep. There was a video for one leg of the journey, with the sound at absolutely full volume - screeching and distorted. I couldn't even hear our Walkman over it. Fortunately, it didn't resume after the first rest stop.
By the time we arrived in Jodhpur at 6:30 am, I had a stiff neck from the vibration. We got an autorickshaw to the Tourist Bungalow and slept for a couple of hours before having breakfast. The place was a typical Indian government establishment originally a good quality facility with all the amenities, on a busy street but standing well back in its own shady grounds, but now generally seedy through poor management and maintenance. Our room had an enormous marble bathroom, but it was grungy and nothing worked properly. The food is OK and you can get beer here, which seems to be a big attraction to the mainly foreign guests. We have more or less sworn off it for this trip as it is expensive compared to meals. We haven't been on the road long enough yet to feel deprived. Our first excursion out was to the Sardar Market in the centre of Jodhpur where we wandered around. The market was sectionalized spices, grains and pulses, cloth, pottery, ironmongery, and so on. Jill needs to buy a bra and hoped to get one in the market. There were some displayed on a stall but she couldn't face dealing with the rather lecherous looking men. The only fruit around in any quantity were apples (from Himachal Pradesh), oranges and bananas none of the tropical fruit we had been looking forward to. While walking back to the Tourist Bungalow, we saw an elephant walking down the street, mahout on its back.
After lunch, we went on a government city tour; these were available in many of the major cities we visited, and always fairly cheap - this was Rs 25 each for the four hour minibus tour. First stop was at the Maharajah's palace, now partly hotel, partly museum and part is still lived in by the Maharajah of Jodhpur. The palace was the last palace built in India, only completed in 1943. It is an impressive sandstone building on high ground on the outskirts of the city. We were only supposed to go into the museum, but we also went into the public area of the hotel. The museum was not particularly exciting - a display of tasteless kitsch, especially clocks; the best part were the fancy china washbowl, jug and chamber pot sets. After the palace we went to a Mandore Gardens, 9 km outside the city. Again, a nicely laid out park gone to seed. The main attraction of the park are the cenotaphs of Jodhpur rulers (since Hindus are cremated, there are no grave memorials, and cenotaphs are used as memorials for important people instead). There were lots of monkeys bounding around the gardens, and we were followed around by Rajasthani musicians looking for baksheesh. Then we went up a steep winding road to the hilltop Fort Meherangarh, built in the 1500s and 1600s. We decided not to go into the museum there (separate charge), but the ticket seller didn't really want to sell tickets for the ramparts only; he still made us by a camera ticket at Rs 25 but that obviously was only needed for the museum, so on the way out, we went and demanded our money back. We finally got it with considerable bad grace. There were excellent views over the city as you walked around the ramparts, particularly visible were the houses of the Brahmins which were all painted sky blue. It was really curious to hear the sounds rising from the city far below; there were only people sounds, no mechanical or traffic noises. There were a lot of military around, setting up for a regimental banquet that was taking place at the fort that night; kerosene flares were being put in place all around the ramparts. On the way back down, we stopped at the big white memorial to Maharajah Jaswant Singh II (1899), three later cenotaphs, also white marble, and the royal crematorium.
There was a mass exodus from the hotel in the evening, most travellers prefer to take night trains to save on accommodation. At this point we couldn't contemplate another night spent travelling. The bus to Jaisalmer is much faster but we are taking the train.
We could only get tea (very strong) when the hotel restaurant opened at 6:30 (breakfast service doesn't start until 8:00), so we bought food from stalls outside the station - the restaurants around there didn't look too appetizing - a kilo each of bananas and oranges and a packet of biscuits, and 2 litres of water for the train, only to discover that the station had a decent looking restaurant. We bought our train tickets to Jaisalmer without any problem - got a first class 2 berth compartment. We had a diesel engine this time, so there was no ash problem - instead, lots of desert dust blew in all day. The route was across the desert, fairly flat terrain with occasional rocky outcrops, sometimes some sand dunes. What vegetation there was was scrub. Most settlements were round huts made of slabs of stone, with conical roofs made of brush.
As the day progressed, it gradually got hotter and hotter; the air coming through the windows was like a furnace blast. The dust it carried seemed to draw the water out of you; your nose and lips were constantly dried out. Naturally because we had come prepared, there was plenty of food and drinks available at most station stops today. We had lunch on the train - a vegetarian thali - a big stainless steel tray with a pilau, fried bread, dahl soup, vegetables, chapatis and a banana. By now, drinking our bottled water was like drinking hot water; it was well above body temperature, even though it hadn't been in the sun. Keeping our thirst quenched on a long journey can be quite an expense, having to buy bottled water or soft drinks at premium prices.
You didn't see many people from the train - only the occasional shepherd with small flocks of sheep or goats. We stopped suddenly at one point - I think a flock must have been on the tracks. People were looking under the train as if we had run over something. We also saw two peacocks - I never expected to see them in the desert, but since they are the state bird of Rajasthan, it must be their natural habitat. We also passed some large military bases, testament to our proximity to the Pakistani frontier.
The stations were always interesting. At every station, all the passengers jump off and make a dash for the drinking water outlet. Some fill their own containers, others drink from a common tumbler, being careful never to let it touch their lips, pouring the water directly into their mouths or by way of their hands. Everyone was wearing the very colourful Rajasthani costumes, and the men were now wearing curly leather slippers. At one station, a very old gnarled man was eating a melon-like fruit, painstakingly and deliberately cutting long slices, then slicing off the rind, and giving some pieces to his leper friend who only had the stumps of his fingers left. There were brightly dressed tribal girls, in colourful bodices and full swinging skirts, draped in veils, and with their faces draped with gold jewellery anchored to a ring in their nose. At another station, there were two young women with babies, ritually wailing, and having their faces stroked by an elderly man who passed. The wailing stopped after he had gone! Even the smallest stations have an interesting assortment of signs - Office of the Electrical Chargeman, Godown, Head Train Examiner, Cash Office, Fruit and Vegetarian Tea Stall.
We arrived at Jaisalmer just at sunset, and were greeted by an absolute bedlam of touts wanting to provide accommodation. It seemed we were the only targets for today. There were so many, all shouting at once and grabbing at us that it was impossible to get any information. We finally chose an autorickshaw, one of the few who had not pestered us, and set off in the direction of the town. We hadn't picked out anywhere to stay and left it up to the driver. After only a few minutes climbing up the narrow winding streets, our driver stopped in one dark backstreet in front of what looked like just a house and said this place was Rs 30 a night. Jill didn't like the look of the area and really didn't see any point in getting out and inspecting it. She reasoned that it couldn't possibly be any good at that price. Amazingly she liked what she saw and we decided to stay. It turned out to be a real gem - to us very quaint and exotic, full of character, an ideal location, and run by a very friendly family. We were never sure if the price was as incredibly cheap as was quoted until we paid, but it was. The building was very old, with incredibly steep stone stairs. Our room, their best, was all carved stone with little niches and cupboards built into the stone walls. The door to the bathroom looks like something out of a medieval fortress, four feet high, ancient thick wood, iron barred and studded, with a length of chain to close it with. Best of all is the is the stone window seat cum balcony overlooking the square.
Our first priority was to have a shower to wash away all that desert dust and get some moisture back on our bodies. The "shower" is of the usual bucket and plastic dipper variety, which with low water pressures can be preferable over the conventional type - as long as you are in a hot climate! The toilet is western style (which benefits from a good washdown with laundry water later) although we always choose Indian style where possible. The power went off shortly after we arrived, which was a perennial problem in Jaisalmer. We were surprised and impressed to have coffee brought to us in our room next. Later the manager, a young Muslim from Pakistan (we are not that far from the border here) came to guide us to a nearby rooftop restaurant, where we dined by hurricane lamp. The power was still off when we went to bed, so we had no fan. It came on an hour or so later, after we had gone to sleep, and woke us up.
We waited until ten minutes to eight before going to breakfast - we're getting used to the late starts here. The staff were still sweeping and dusting, so we asked if the restaurant was open yet. "Oh yes, please sit down." But when we ordered our breakfast "It will be half hour - restaurant not clean." Then when we were paying our bill "Restaurant not clean. Next time come 9 o'clock."
We walked up into the fort which was built in 1156. The interior is a maze of narrow stone-paved streets where a quarter of the population of Jaisalmer lives. There are no vehicles - they could never negotiate the entrances to the fort, and it was like going back centuries. The houses are extremely picturesque - intricately
carved stone, simple whitewashed stucco, overhanging balconies. It is impossible to tell how old any particular building is - they all look old, but when you see them building a new one, it looks just like the ancient ones. And always the open drain channels running along both sides of the narrow streets.
After some searching we found the Hotel Suraj which Deepak Vyas of the Hotel Rampratap in Udaipur had recommended to us. He had told us the owner, also named Vyas, is of the same caste. The hotel was most impressive, an ex haveli (rich merchant's house) over 500 years old, but way out of our price range. After chatting with the owner for a while, we decided we would arrange our camel safari through him, leaving tomorrow afternoon.
We were told to bring long trousers, shoes, sun glasses, sun cream and 5 litres of water.
We looked at some other hotels, but they were little or no better than the Pooja and were much more expensive. While we were looking at one hotel, we met a couple from Howick, New Zealand (David and Patricia) and had dinner with them later. It was very hot in the middle of the day (40°), and we had to keep drinking copious quantities of fluid.
We had a good dinner with the New Zealand couple who were leaving on the train that night, even though David had a bad stomach and only ate butter naan. We had eggplant garlic, special kofta, naan, chapati, all washed down with a thick and creamy banana lassi (me only - Jill never touches yogurt, curd or lassi). After dinner we sat on the little balcony of our room at the Pooja and watched the endlessly fascinating goings on.
Our balcony looked out on a small triangular plaza, with a big tree in the middle. There was some sort of shrine under the tree, and the women came here in the mornings to do puja (devotions). This evening, there were seven cows in the plaza, including a tiny calf tied to an ancient (and defunct) bicycle under our balcony. It was while we were here that we started to realise that the many cows one sees wandering the streets actually belong to people, and are very treasured possessions, family pets in fact, which get a lot of care and attention. Of course, they also provide milk and dung. Women and girls were cleaning their stainless steel dinner pans and dishes by rubbing them in the dust (not caring too much about the proximity of cow dung!). We watched an old brahmin who sits in the plaza all day get himself ready for bed, very slowly and painstakingly. First he made up his bed on one of the stone platforms in front of one of the houses; three sacks were carefully spread on the stone, and covered by various pieces of cloth. A pillow roll completed the bed. He then took off his turban and his shirt, revealing his white Brahmin cord, and put on a clean shirt. This took three attempts before he got it right. He finally flopped over, and never moved another muscle except for an occasional cough. There were children setting off fireworks with much glee in honour of Divali. Two old women were sitting on charpoys on the platform outside their houses having a chat before settling down for the night, their conversation frequently interrupted by bouts of coughing and hawking.
2 person for jeep tour going to Amarsagar, Damodara, Kanoi and Sam Sand Dunes. 1 hour camel ride on dunes. Back after sunset. Stop at Moolsagar. Back next day by camels seeing Lodruva, Ramkunda, Bada Bagh, and back at 5 pm. |
Including guide on jeep, camel ride on dunes, dinner, b/f, lunch, mattresses and blankets. Dinner: chapatis, rice, vegetables, dal. B/f: tea, toast, jam, porridge, fried eggs. |
Total Rs 800 |
After breakfast, we went into the fort again to do some more exploring. The area covered by the fort is quite small, but because of the maze of narrow, winding streets, it appears much larger than it really is, and you could spend hours wandering round soaking up the images such as a little boy carrying a tiny, bleating new born goat, with the mother following behind, still trailing the afterbirth. We went in the royal palace, a seven storey building dominating the entrance and the main square of the fort. From the top, there were magnificent views, both over the rest of the fort, and over the rest of the town and the desert stretching endlessly beyond in all directions. There was a lot of beautiful tile work, as well as wall paintings. We also went in the two Jain temples, the exteriors built from beautifully carved red sandstone in the 12th to 15th centuries. Late in the day, they really glow in the setting sun. Inside, they are mainly white marble and alabaster. Since Jains do not believe in killing any creature (serious Jains even wear a gauze mask so that they don't inhale any tiny insects), you have to leave any leather articles at the entrance, as well as your shoes of whatever material.
We didn't bother to check out of the hotel for the one night we were going to be away for the safari. It wasn't worth the effort to save Rs 30, and besides, our stuff would be safer locked in our room with our own padlock on the door. We just took the bare essentials with us in our daypacks.
We bought 6 bottles of water from a stand in the main square of the fort to take on safari with us. Whilst we were doing this, we chatted with a boy musician, neatly dressed in traditional Rajasthani clothing. He plays a string instrument with a bow. Surprisingly, he didn't ask us for any money. We then went to the Hotel Suraj to get picked up for the safari. We were expecting to meet a french woman here, but it turned out that she was just going on a one day jeep safari, and had left earlier to see the sights we would see later by camel. We drove out of town to a small "restaurant" where she was waiting. We were promptly sat down, and beers and crisps appeared in front of us - seemed like they were included in the tour, but they weren't and the price was quite steep. Fortunately, I was suspicious by the time he brought the second bottles and declined them.
First stop in the jeep was Amar Sagar, the site of an old, now decayed formal royal garden, along with a jain temple which is undergoing a very slow and painstaking restoration. The most interesting sight was a very traditional Rajasthani woman, complete with two armfuls of white bangles raising water from a well with a very primitive but effective ox powered hoist.
Next stop was the village of Damodara, a very poor village, almost abandoned after a lot of its residents were killed and buildings destroyed by bombing in the last India - Pakistan war. Now just a few older people live among the ruins, with a few scraggy animals. We saw one woman sitting on the ground in her house spinning wool on a big spinning wheel.
From here, we went on to the Sam sand dunes, almost at the Pakistan frontier (access to this area is tightly controlled because of concern about infiltration). This wasn't the least bit what we expected - a big parking lot full of vehicles, souvenir and refreshment stalls, and a mad rush of camel drivers after your business as soon as your vehicle pulls up; the atmosphere was almost carnival-like, and we had expected a solitary contemplative sunset among the sand dunes! Virtually all the other tourists there were Indian, not Western, and there is no way that anything ill be quiet and peaceful with crowds of Indians around. Some even had ghetto blasters with them. It was almost sunset as we arrived, our driver arranged camels for us (this was quite separate from our camel safari, although we hadn't realised this), and we followed the crowds to the top of a nearby sand dune. It wasn't a particularly spectacular sunset.
Afterwards, dark by now, we set off back in the jeep towards town, and were eventually dropped off at the side of the road where an old man, Rilman, was waiting. We then had to follow him on foot off into the desert; we had no idea where we were or where we were heading. We just had our miniature flashlight to help us avoid tripping over rocks or scrub. After a few minutes we spotted a little fire, and as we approached this, we were able to discern another man, a boy (Ahmeda), and three camels. None of them spoke more than a couple of words of English, and communication was not easy. There was also a big raised concrete slab, whose function we never discovered. Dinner was already cooked and waiting for us - vegetable curry (warm), rice and chapatis (both cold). We had to eat first (with our fingers of course), and then the others ate what we didn't eat. Afterwards, we sat under a gloriously clear sky, more stars than you could ever imagine, while the two old men serenaded us with a succession of plaintive Rajasthani ballads. They tried to get us to sing for them, but that was a lost cause. According to our receipt for the trip, we were to get "mattresses and blankets" for the night, and the temperature was going down fast enough that these were needed. What we got, was two well-worn quilts each, one to lie on, one as a cover. Around 9:30 the five of us all made our beds up in a row on the concrete slab, and settled down under the stars, fully dressed of course. The concrete was very hard, and it got quite cold during the night. On top of this, the camels were constantly moving around and grinding their teeth, exhaling terrible smelling breath when they regurgitated a mouthful of cud to chew on, and there were dogs barking somewhere, so we only slept fitfully, but it was an experience not to be missed. Jill said she didn't even mind being awake most of the night - just to be lying under that incredible night sky with hardly space to stick a pin between stars. She saw at least 7 shooting stars.
We were up soon after sunrise; it was quite cold, and the air was rather hazy, giving a grey tinge to everything. We were able to see our three companions and our surroundings for the first time. Both the men had big droopy mustaches and big orange Rajasthan turbans. Rilman soon had a fire going and the breakfast cooked, using a very frugal amount of sticks: porridge (very solid, grain unknown), toast and tea. Several dogs waited patiently from a distance. All the ingredients came out of little plastic bags which they fished out of a big cloth sack, and the cooking pots were all brass. There were no eating utensils, so we ate the porridge with the toast - have you ever tried eating hot porridge with your fingers? There was also a previously hard boiled egg each available, but one had a piece of shell missing, and had been half eaten away by insects; we let the other three have them! One of the camels had to be given some medicine, an interesting process. Funnily enough, they had a spoon for that. Rilman held the camel's mouth open, while the other man spooned in several teaspoonfuls of a white powder, much to the camel's disgust. They then had to hold the mouth shut to stop it spitting it out.
We thought that going to the bathroom might have been a problem, but there was a sizable clump of shrubs to go behind. It wasn't even messy there either, the dogs came and cleaned up after you pretty quickly.
One of the drivers put my Rajasthani turban (a blood red one) on for me so I could look the part (more to the point, to protect my head from the sun), and then we set off. The two men were on one camel, leading Jill on another, and Ahmeda and I were on the third camel. The first experience is when the camel stands up, rear legs first, almost pitching you over its head. The "saddle" is just a wooden frame padded with the bedding, more of it under the frame to protect the camel than on top. The "stirrups" are lengths of string, uneven in Jill's case, adding to her misery. It wasn't too bad until they started trotting, when you bounce up and down dramatically; you try to grip the frame with your knees and thighs to cut down on the bouncing, and to ensure you don't bounce right off. Camels are quite tall animals, and it looks a long way down! My camel didn't want to trot as much as the others though (or I didn't have the right technique for making it, thank goodness), so we tended to fall behind the others a bit. Jill's camel needs no extra encouragement to trot and would have gladly traded places. She says her body is in torment, despite several adjustments of the padding, not only her legs and behind but now her arms from hanging on while trotting. We stopped first at Lodruva, a small old settlement with a rebuilt Jain temple. There was water here for the camels. It felt funny to get off the camels and walk after perhaps two and a half hours on camel back. We continued on to Bada Bagh, a royal crematorium with a lot of cenotaphs. Adjacent is a big dammed valley, really a dried up lake bed, which is supposedly a fertile oasis where a lot of the fruit and vegetables for Jaisalmer are grown. The effects of five years of severe drought are obviously showing, since there were no crops growing. When we got off the camels, Jill had some sort of funny turn, almost fainted, and said she was feeling so bad she wanted to die. Fortunately, it passed off after about 15 minutes. She sat while I had a walk round and looked at all the memorials. Then we had to walk down into the valley where to camel drivers had gone to start cooking lunch. We stayed there in the shade of a big tree for over an hour, by which time she was reasonably back to normal, although she didn't eat much lunch. We never discovered what caused it - perhaps motion sickness?
Lunch was vegetable curry and chapatis again. Hygiene leaves quite a lot to be desired - noone had had a wash since they started out, and there was the camel driver mixing up the chapati dough with his bare hands. The cooking pots hadn't seen more than a glimmer of water - it was too precious to squander on washing pots. I was hungry though and ate plenty. Rilman kept saying about the only English words he knew "Vegetables gooooood! Chapati gooooood! Tea gooooood!" He lay down and had a sleep after we had eaten while the other man cleaned the pots by rubbing them with dust. We were able to see their total inventory at that point - to cook and serve the five of us they had: 2 brass pans, 3 bowls, 2 cups, 1 knife and 1 serving spoon (also used to give the camel its medicine). While we were eating, the camels had their saddles removed, and they were allowed to wander and eat the trees, although my camel was hobbled with a short length of chain between the front legs.
After the rest, we set off for the 7 kilometres back to Jaisalmer, which was visible by this time. Jill said she would walk the rest of the way, leading her camel (we saw someone from another group doing this) but our drivers would have none of this. We thought it odd that the few safari groups we encountered, going in the opposite direction, were almost exclusively female; we later concluded that the men must go for the four day trips. For this leg, the two men and Ahmeda were on one camel, with Jill and I having one each to ourselves; Jill's was still being led though. We passed ruins in the distance and think these are on our itinerary, but our drivers are intent on getting back to Jaisalmer as quickly as possible (lots of trotting!). We came into the outskirts of Jaisalmer through a fairly primitive settlement of what were obviously village people - thatch-roofed mud-walled houses. When they dropped us off, at 4:00 at what appeared to be miles from the town Jill was outraged and turned a deaf ear to hints of extra pay. Actually it was only just outside the city gate near Ghandi Chowk and while it was an effort to walk back, at least we were glad to be on our own two feet again.
We were dying for a cold drink, which we had as soon as we got to the shops, and a good shower. The hotel owner had asked us to go to his shop for a special puja for Diwali, but by the time we arrived it was over. After dinner, we walked around all the back streets of the town; all the houses were decorated for Diwali with little clay oil lamps, often hundreds of them. The lamps are very simple - just a 2" clay oil-filled saucer with a twist of cotton wool floating in it. Often, one of these lamps would be set out in the road in front of the house in a little pile of cow dung, commonly shaped into a swastika form. And fireworks of all sorts, especially bangers, were being set off everywhere. The mood was certainly very festive.
There were fireworks going off all night, like explosions, and especially in the early morning. Most shops and restaurants were closed because of Diwali, today being the main day of celebration. Most people were still dressed in their best clothes. There was firework debris everywhere. Several times strangers offered us sweets.
We went for a walk to the Gadi Sagar Tank, a reservoir which was once the city's water supply. You approach it through an archway across the road; this was supposedly built by a famous prostitute, in defiance of the maharajah who did not think it appropriate that he would have to pass through it on his way to the tank. To ensure he couldn't have it pulled down, she built a Hindu temple on top of the arch. There are a number of small temples around it, and it is a pleasant spot. We spent some time in an adjacent small, interesting museum run by a local teacher with no public funding.
Next, we went to look at the famous havelis of Jaisalmer. These are beautiful carved sandstone mansions built by wealthy merchants. The architecture tends to be somewhat idiosyncratic. One was built by two brothers, and looks completely symmetrical, until you realise that all the windows and ornamental carvings differ slightly. The most elaborate of the haveli is Patwon ki Haveli, which is on a very narrow lane; it would be very difficult to get a proper appreciation of its facade if some buildings across the lane hadn't been demolished. You can go in and look around the interiors; since people still live in them, you are actually walking round people's homes, albeit preserved in time. Portraits of Queen Victoria, and George V and Queen Mary were prominent.
We met the nephew of the owner of the Hotel Pooja who had a new mountain bike, the first we have seen. It disappeared when he came in a shop with us, and he was pretty worried for a while, but it turned out that someone had just borrowed it. We also met another young fellow we had met previously in one of the gift shops near the fort. We didn't recognize him, wearing a brand new suit in honour of Diwali with the pocket flaps still basted down. He invited us to his family home and we accepted. It turned out that he was a medical student in Jaipur, but all schools, colleges and universities have been closed for two months. No one has any idea when they will reopen. We were interested to hear his views on the current political crisis; he reckons the government will fall very shortly. From his house we were persuaded to visit his family business - carpets, of course! There always seems to be a catch to these encounters. We made it clear right from the start that we were not buying but they still insist on showing us several. Actually it is quite interesting to learn about the different qualities and designs, and the prices seem reasonable. They handle all the paperwork, export/import, taxes, etc. and show us their order book filled with orders from all over the world. They are pleasant and not at all pushy, and we are almost tempted to do a deal. We have to think it over, and if we decide we only have to let our medical student friend know and he will arrange a good price!
We thought we might be having dinner with one of the owners of the Hotel Pooja, but the tentative initial invitation didn't pan out - perhaps it had something to do with us not showing up for the previous invitation. We waited at the hotel, and he came and chatted for a while, but there was no more mention of dinner. There were still lots of fireworks going off all evening. We noticed that several of the food stall owners had little heaps of burning cow dung on their stall to keep the flies away. It didn't usually seem to be too successful, and I don't know what sort of flavour the burning cow dung added to the food.
We were surprised to find most businesses closed and we have to search to find even a restaurant open.
When we got up, we sat on the balcony and watched the local women performing some kind of ritual under the tree in the centre of the square. Each came alone, in turn, with a little pot of water, which they poured on the little platform, then walked around the tree, and finished by spinning round. We were then out bright and early to go to the Gadi Sagar tank again. It was very peaceful in the early morning mist. There were a lot of birds around, and we watched an egret devouring a frog. In that area we had a look at the tourist bungalow, quite an attractive building from the outside, also individual brick built thatched roof huts, but we can see the same "government issue" furniture and suspect the same atmosphere. There is no one in sight. The biggest drawback to staying in tourist bungalows is that they are nearly always away from the action, on the edge of town usually, where you are stuck with either doing a lot of extra walking or forking out for rickshaw rides and all the hassles. We also walked by the fancy Jahwar Niwas Palace Hotel, also outside the city walls, and it too looked deserted.
Things were generally back to normal today after Diwali. We spent some time browsing around the little shops, a lot like souks, in the old area. Jill had the idea that she hadn't really brought enough clothes and could do with some more, but most ready made clothing is pretty shoddy. She admired some "ethnic" fabric which she saw on a lot of Muslim women in town today, deep maroon tie-dyed in a pattern of spots and ended up buying a skirt length (60 rupees for the material, 10 for a tailor to make it up for this evening). Then she needed a top to go with it and found something suitable next door for Rs 45. A tailor (different one) will make a tunic up for Rs 25. When she pointed out that she could buy a ready made top for Rs 35 or so he grabs one and starts showing her that those are "no good" and assures her that hers will have good seams. It takes us a few minutes to come to an agreement - he only speaks a few words of English - while Jill describe with her hands and then a pen and paper how she want it, and he measures her. It will be ready at 8:00 p.m. and cost Rs 20.
We were supposed to meet a Mr Vijay Sharma, a botany instructor at the local college, for lunch at the Rooftop Restaurant, but he never showed up. We thought it might have been due to a mixup with the nearby New Rooftop Restaurant, so I kept trotting back and forth between the two, and we were fairly confident that he didn't appear at either. We never found out what happened. While we were sitting waiting, sparrows kept coming to eat sugar out of the sugar bowls - definitely a case for lids!
On our way back to the hotel after lunch, a passing cow took a swipe at me with its horns, something you often think could happen as you constantly walk within inches of foot long horns. Fortunately, it just caught my hand - it could have really hurt if it had hit my body. We gave the hotel manager money to buy our train tickets for tomorrow when he went to meet the incoming evening train to drum up business.
Some excitement in the town this afternoon. The New Tourist Hotel burnt down, destroying luggage, money, passports, etc. The word is it was caused by "some foreigner on drugs" who fell asleep smoking.
We decided on a splurge for dinner tonight, the Skyroom, perhaps the fanciest place in town. High class "western" service, even a maitre d'! Musicians played while we ate. As are most other restaurants in Jaisalmer, it is on a roof, and has good views of the castle and part of the town. The food was good - tandoori chicken, with garlic and ginger noodles, with fancy and expensive ice cream after. We just got back to the tailor's in time to pick up Jill's tunic. Everywhere was closed up and in darkness except for our tailor, still working in a doorway on a narrow flight of stairs laboriously replacing a broken zipper on a rather beat up camera bag. True to his word all the seams were finished off and Jill was well satisfied. She felt a bit guilty at beating him down to Rs 20 - Rs 5 difference is only 30 cents. He told us he was going home then, but he had another job to be done by morning which he would do on another machine at home. He is just a young guy with a family to support.
Our last day in Jaisalmer. We started packing after breakfast on the assumption that we would have to check out around noon, even though our train didn't leave until evening. As it happened, they let us keep the room. We had an interesting conversation with one of the hotel owners (we never did learn his name and his business card doesn't include it) for a while. He seems like a nice man. He told us he was interested in getting a degree from the Indhira Ghandi Open University, but is having trouble getting information from them. He had recently come back from Calcutta where he had lived for 20-odd years, and where his wife still lives, to run the hotel, the family home, jointly owned with his mother and brother. He was obviously disappointed that we hadn't booked our camel safari through him; Jill felt a bit guilty and wished we had, but explained how we had been given an introduction to the owner of the Hotel Suraj from the manager of our hotel in Udaipur, and had gone there the morning after we arrived in Jaisalmer. We couldn't afford to stay there but decided to book the safari through him anyway and spread our business around. While we were chatting, the other brother dropped by and invited us to a Rajasthani breakfast at his home just down the street. The house was neat and clean, but very simple. His wife, their three daughters (Teresa, Pooja and Amida, aged 7, 5 and 4, whom we had met before at the hotel when they were visiting their grandmother) and two of his five sisters were there, but as none of them spoke any English, "conversation" consisted of a lot of smiling. It was obvious that the three little girls were very much loved - not at all treated as burdens as they would be in many families. (We read in the paper while in India that 99% of fetuses aborted are female and a very high percentage of female children die in infancy.) Their only English appeared to be "Hello you fellow", which they kept repeating to roars of laughter from the family. We were offered spicy poppadum-like round flat cakes, a savory mixture something like nuts and bolts, little pastries, some of them iced, and sweet balls tasting like mawa, plus tea. I don't suppose this is what they have every day - it must be special because of Diwali.
We picked up Jill's skirt from the tailor. Like the blouse, it was well made, carefully pleated all round the waistband. As we were coming away we started noticing tailors in nearly every nook and cranny in that area.
In the afternoon, we went walking outside the city walls, and into the village area we had come through when returning from the safari. As we passed by the bus stand, a bus was getting ready to leave with about 40 people on the roof - it had a wooden box there for people to sit in. There were lots of riding camels in this area, also blacksmiths with tiny forges in holes in the ground making knives and tools, most of them pretty crude. We turned back when two dogs started barking furiously and displaying aggressive behaviour at two tourists ahead of us.
We had our last dinner at one of our favourite places but had to wait an hour to be served. We were told they were waiting for the chapatis to be ready! Our camel drivers with their primitive tools managed to make our chapatis in a few minutes.
While we were finishing last minute packing, an Indian tourist came to look at our room, the biggest and best in the hotel, but although we did our best to persuade him to take it but he eventually left. The old lady obviously appreciated our efforts - patted me on the shoulder.
We decided we didn't need transport to the station and walked it in 20 minutes. I managed to put my foot in a sewer on the way! We were surprised and touched that the hotel owners came to the train to see us off, as promised. We were in a four berth compartment with a chatty Czech-Australian with an Indrail pass who seemed to be spending all his time on trains, and a peculiar Indian guy, who never uttered a word, but who helped himself to our newspaper. At bedtime he disappeared down the corridor for a few minutes and came back in his pyjamas. We had a fairly disturbed night - the Indian man got up four times to go to the bathroom. This was the last time we travelled first class and in future managed with second class reserved.
What a relief to arrive at Raika Bagh Palace station outside Jodhpur a few minutes early (6:40 a.m.). We had worried we might miss our connection for Jaipur, and if we'd stayed on the train to the main Jodhpur station, we would have. (Our medical student friend in Jaisalmer, who takes the same train back to university all the time, gave us this advice.) This is where the "Palace on Wheels" carriage finishes, and we watched the passengers leave, heading for the very posh Raika Bagh Palace hotel where the Maharajah of Jodhpur is still in residence. We had just enough time to buy our tickets and dash across the tracks. No problem finding which platform - there was a huge crowd already waiting. The major part of the train, the Marudhur Express, was the unreserved second class which was packed with chanting young men with orange headbands (Kar Sevaks - Hindu fundamentalist demonstrators bound for Lucknow and then to Ayodya for the big demonstration on October 30. Rajasthan is the stronghold of the BJP, the political party that has been doing the agitation.) Jill thought it best at this point to put away the orange headscarf she had been wearing up to now to keep the dust out of her hair! At every station there were more of them. It was a little scary, knowing the ease with which Indians can turn to mob violence.
However, the journey turned out to be reasonably uneventful. We ordered coffee on the train - it came in small thermos flasks. We went through Degana, a small town renowned for its marble quarries. (The marble for the Taj Mahal came from here.) Then the train went round, and partly across Lake Sambhar with its evaporating ponds for salt production. At one station, our fellow Indian travellers bought lunch which came in banana leaf baskets which leaked gravy everywhere; they ate in a sickeningly messy fashion, with their hands and the table both ending up covered in rice and gravy. They then had the nerve to ask us if they could have some of our drinking water, of which we had barely enough to last us out.
We were an hour late arriving at Jaipur (2:30 p.m.) where there were more huge crowds of Kar Sevaks waiting to meet the train. We got out of the station as fast as we could and into an autorickshaw without incident. This quite surprised us as the Lonely Planet guide predicted it is hard to get a decent autorickshaw driver in Jaipur - either they will only take you to a hotel where they get a kickback, or charge exorbitant fares. This one even had a working meter, the first one we have seen. It was much fancier than usual too, with two rear facing seats as well as the usual two forward facing ones; it also had a big electric clock, and was in excellent condition. He took us directly to the hotel we specified, the Arya Niwas, and when we arrived, he said the meter was wrong. It showed Rs 6.40, and he said it was only Rs 4! The one and only time the meter has ever been wrong in our favour! We suspect he wanted to prove his honesty so that he could solicit more lucrative business from us. In fact, he wanted to take us on a tour after we had checked in - I said he must be joking when we had just been travelling for 18 hours. We didn't want him the next day either but said maybe the day after that. We had forgotten that that was to be the day of the general strike. Little did we realise what was going to materialise then.
Our hotel is a treat, although rather more expensive than we had planned on, but we decided to stay and try for a cheaper "standard" room in the morning. It turned out to be the cleanest and most efficiently run hotel we come across in all our travels in India. There is a self-service restaurant with an open modern kitchen, and the food is good with plenty of choice.
We went a walk down one of the main streets - Mirza Ismail Rd, always abbreviated to MI Rd, to get our bearings. (Indian cities frequently name roads after people, and since Indian names tend to be long, names are invariably abbreviated. Nearly every town or city we visited had its MG (Mahatma Ghandi) Rd.) At the end of our road, we were besieged by a horde of cycle and autorickshaw drivers who didn't think we should walk anywhere. Once on to MI Rd, the first part seemed to be mainly car parts dealers, and was pretty grotty - broken up sidewalks, garbage everywhere (including a dead dog) and the inevitable odours, especially on the corner turning into MI Road which doubles as a bathroom. We turned back before reaching the better class shopping area - Jill was hungry and getting crabbier by the minute. None of the restaurants we passed opened until 7:00 pm or later, and there was no way we could wait that long - we had only snacked for lunch on the train. We went in a sort of fast food restaurant and had our first South Indian food - big masala dosas which we really enjoyed. (Although Jill came to hate them before she was through!)
We had a good breakfast at the hotel - porridge and stuffed paratha with chutney, and nice lemon tea. We then walked to the old city through Chandipol gate. It was rather messy on the way there - vehicle parts shops, and transportation companies with big trucks blocking the way all the time. Plus animals, of course: at one point we were able to see camels, goats, cows, buffalo, horses, dogs and pigs. Around Chandipol were fruit and vegetable sellers - a much better variety of produce than we had seen anywhere else. Chandipol led right into the main street of the old city, the Tripoli Bazaar. This is a very wide street, at least six lanes if they had such things; the main traffic is bicycles, camel carts, scooters, cycle rickshaws and autorickshaws. There was a big mixture of shops in this area, most very specialised - fabric, clothes, soap, grain/dahl, hardware, electrical, and so on. There were sweetshops boiling down big cauldrons of milk looking for all the world like witches' kitchens. Near the central crossroads there was a 250 year old Hindu temple which was home to a large number of monkeys.
A man who accosted us on the street (and who spoke good French and English) persuaded us to go and look at some jewellery (Jaipur is renowned as a source of precious stones). We spent quite a long time looking at some very nice pieces - lapis lazuli, rose agate, jade, black onyx, malachite, amethyst, and so on. He must have thought we were worth something - he started bringing out what he called "investment quality" stuff. He tried to tell us that we could make money by buying pieces to take back to Canada to sell - he even had an uncle in Ottawa who would buy them back from us! Whilst all this was taking place, we were sitting on the floor which was totally overlaid with a mattress covered by a white sheet. Jill picked out some pieces and had them put aside while we thought about it (Jill would have bought them on the spot, but I am more cautious - besides, the price often goes down as you walk out of a place). We bought some fruit for lunch and then walked back to the hotel.
After lunch, I went out for a walk by myself while Jill rested. This time, I went along MI Rd, and into the old city through Ajmeri gate. I managed to buy a small water heater so we could make tea in our room - it only cost $1. I tried to get tea bags, but they appear to be totally unavailable, even though there are many shops that sell only tea. I walked along Nehru Bazaar, Bapu Bazaar, Johari Bazaar, and then along Tripoli Bazaar and out at Chandipol. More than once I noticed crowds of people clustered around radios, and there seemed to be a lot of people standing around waiting for something to happen. Some shops started to partially close - taking the merchandise inside and pulling the shutters down half way (virtually every store in India has roll up steel shutters completely covering the store front). I could definitely detect a tension in the air. Then I saw a troupe of tin-hatted policemen march down the street with lathis at the ready. There were lots more policemen sitting around at every intersection as if they were expecting trouble.
We went across the road to the recommended Hotel Mangal for dinner, but it was deserted and very dinghy, and the menu was uninteresting, so we came back to the Arya Niwas and had dinner there. We met a couple of retired doctors from White Rock (Terry and Wendy) who were on a four month tour. they had hoped to do some volunteer work, but the Indian government doesn't recognise Canadian qualifications!
The news today is very depressing. The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) has withdrawn form the government coalition and called for a 24 hour nation-wide general strike tomorrow because its leader, Mr L.K. Advani has been arrested for stirring up "inter-community" antagonism. The BJP is very strong in Rajasthan (it forms the state government), and particularly in Jaipur. Several thousand people were expected to leave for "kar sevak" to Ayodhya on today's Marudhar express, the train we came on yesterday. There had actually been a demonstration in Jaipur yesterday that had been broken up by a police lathi charge. Elsewhere, 22,000 kar sevaks on their way to Ayodhya had been arrested in Uttar Pradesh, and the area all around Ayodhya has been sealed off by the military. The Prime Minister, V.S.Singh, made an address on national radio last night, appealing for the people to save India, even if it meant sacrificing his government. The other major problem, the implementation of the Mandal commission report and the reservation of government jobs and university places for lower castes, is also causing growing problems. Every day, there are more reports of self immolations by students in protest. On the other hand, there was a 24 hour general strike in Tamil Nadu yesterday in support of Mandal; obviously the lower castes are more dominant down there.
From today's paper:With the withdrawal of the BJP from the government coalition, the government now doesn't have a majority, but the Prime Minister says he will not resign until he is defeated in Parliament, which is not in session. Today's BJP-called general strike had started violently in several places as soon as news of the arrest of the BJP leaders had spread yesterday, particularly in Bombay and Ahmedabad. In Jaipur there had been a procession which had blocked several major intersections, and a van had been burned. 6,000 kar sevaks had left Jaipur for Ayodhya. Arrests in Uttar Pradesh had now reached 50,000 - where do they put them all? 24 people were killed in the Punjab in Sikh related violence, but this hardly gets a mention in the paper. |
It was not clear what was going to happen today, but there were expectations of trouble, particularly in the walled city. We decided to go to the Ram Bagh Palace Hotel, a former palace of the Maharajah of Jaipur, and now "one of India's most prestigious and romantic hotels". The streets were deserted, and there were no autorickshaws around, but we managed to get a cycle rickshaw. There were no cars,trucks or buses on the streets, and everywhere seemed to be closed up. The hotel seemed rather stark, not the least bit opulent, and very quiet. There were lawns, but all the flower beds were empty, and none of the fountains looked like they were working. We were told there that the city palace was open, much to our surprise, so we got a cycle rickshaw to take us to the old city. As soon as we went through the New Gate, there was a big crowd, and a group of young men came and surrounded us. They seemed to be in a good humour and wanted to shake our hands, but someone else came up and said "I advise you to go back to your hotel - you are a guest here and we wouldn't want anything to happen to you". We noticed that some of the police around had rifles as well as the inevitable lathis (Indian police don't normally carry firearms). The atmosphere was becoming quite tense, so we beat a hasty retreat outside the walls of the old city, and went to the park/museum/zoo complex across the road. It was quiet there, but everywhere was closed up so we started walking back to the hotel along MI Rd. We had to pause a few minutes at one point while the police dispersed some people with flailing lathis. We made it back to the hotel without further incident. It seemed like most of the people at the hotel were staying around there, which we did for the rest of the day.
During the afternoon, we heard what we thought was fireworks, but it turned out to be gunfire, and we saw large plumes of black smoke rising from the city - up to 9 of them at one point. There were people up on the roofs of buildings all around (joining the goats which were usually there) trying to see what was going on.
Dinner at the hotel was chaotic. Since no-one could go out, there were far more people than usual, they were six staff short because they hadn't been able to get there, and there was only a limited menu because they hadn't been able to shop. We heard that the Moslem areas of the city were now under curfew, presumably to give them some measure of protection. According to the TV news, Jaipur was the worst hit place in the country, and the army has been called out to restore order. The gunfire still went on into the night.
I had a high fever this morning, but it didn't seem like it would matter much - the situation had been very bad overnight, and the city was now under curfew for at least 48 hours. According to the morning paper, a large number of shops and homes had been burned, in many cases with entire families, presumably Moslems, forced to remain inside. Although the strike had been called to protest the arrest of the BJP leaders, it immediately erupted into Hindu-Moslem violence, which always seems to be the outcome of any disturbance in India. Although the paper only hinted at it, it was apparent that Hindu mobs had been rampaging through Moslem neighbourhoods, terrorising and burning, and the police seemed to have been quite ineffective in preventing it; in some cases, it was alleged that they just stood and watched, or even helped. We heard periodic gunfire again through the day. I stayed in bed most of the day, feverish and sweating, just getting up for dinner. Food selection was even more restricted, but at least they had organised to deal with the staff shortage.
I still had a fever this morning, but we decided to move on to Pushkar, since the prognostications were that it would be several days before things had any chance of returning to normal. Newspaper reports said that 68 people had been killed in Jaipur, but word of mouth was saying over 200. We went to the station with Mohan in his "Indian helicopter" (cycle rickshaw). When we were queuing for tickets at the station, what sounded like a loud gunshot provided some excitement; we never did discover what it was, but it certainly sent all the police scurrying round. We couldn't get first class tickets on the Garib Nawaz Express to Ajmer (from where we would get the bus to Pushkar), so we had to settle for second class. We got in a decent compartment (wooden seats), with our rightful allocation of space, for the two and a half hour journey to Ajmer. There was an old Rajasthani sleeping on the luggage rack; when he got down, a younger man took his place - obviously the rack is considered a choice spot. It was a very short walk from the station to the Pushkar bus - we knew it had to be close when a cycle rickshaw walla offered to take us for only 1 rupee. The bus was packed like a sardine can, me sitting on the engine cover (you just need to be in a warm spot like that when it's probably 35° in the shade and you have a fever), and Jill on a plastic drum. It was an interesting 14 kilometre ride along a switchback road over Snake Mountain. This was the first time we had been in any real hills. We were confused when we arrived in Pushkar - we thought we were at one of the two bus stations, but were in fact at the other (Lonely Planet wrong again), so we set off in the wrong direction. We got lured by one of the usual touts to the Everest Guest House by the promise of a 50 rupee room - then found it was going up to 500 rupee the next day for the duration of the fair. They also wanted us to pay in advance for a week. After considerable argument, they allowed us to stay there for one night. We walked out to the Hotel Peacock at the opposite end of town and made arrangements to stay there - a better room, softer bed, and rates only going up by a factor of 6!
On our way back to the Everest, by the lake, we were waylaid by a Brahmin and before we knew what was happening, we were down on the ghats at the lakeside doing puja. This consisted of repeating a lot of Hindi and English words after him, throwing flower petals into the water (where they were promptly gobbled up by the fish). Parents' and children's names were invoked (they were all cleansed of all their sins for the past year), lake water poured over our hands, tikas put on our foreheads, and a holy cord tied on our wrist. The crunch came when the phrase to be parroted was "Holy Pushkar Lake donation" with us to add the appropriate amount. Suggested amounts were 100, 500, 1000 rupees, but we got away with 50, although at a loss of some goodwill! We have read several times that the Brahmin priests in Pushkar are particularly rapacious, especially to Indian pilgrims.
Pushkar is one of the most holy cities in India. Hindus believe that Brahma dropped a lotus leaf to earth, and Pushkar Lake appeared where it fell. It is only a small town, perhaps 30,000 population, which swells to ten times that at the time of the full moon in November, which is the time of pilgrimage and the annual cattle fair. The town is quite pretty, spread around the small lake, with almost the entire lakeshore occupied by temples.
Back at the Everest, there was an "all you can eat" middle eastern buffet for dinner. Sounds fancier than it was, but it made a nice change and we enjoyed it.
The bed was very hard, and the night seemed interminable. We got up at 6:30 am and went up on the roof to watch the sun rise over the hills across the lake - a magnificent sight.
After a good breakfast (porridge, brown toast and honey), we walked out to the fairground area on the edge of town, where the desert starts. There was still a lot of preparation going on - erecting circus tents, funfairs, display areas, etc., but there was already plenty of stuff up and open - eating places, and stalls selling all sorts of camel harness and accoutrements, all brightly coloured. Beyond these areas was the "grass" area, where all the feed merchants were selling animal fodder. Beyond all this activity, as far as you could see on either side of the road and stretching out into the desert, were camels, horses and cattle. The animals were far better quality than those you usually see around, and well-groomed and decorated.
After this, we moved from the Everest out to the Hotel Peacock. The Peacock was built around a sizable garden, but this was being filled with large tents to accommodate extra people. They also put tents up on the roof.
After we had moved, we went for a walk around the bazaar. We found that the "holy cords" around our wrist saved us from a lot of hassles - the Brahmins backed off as soon as they saw them. There were a lot of very filthy looking food places around - some looked medieval, with enormous cauldrons bubbling over wood fires. There were lots of monkeys around, jumping from building to building, and we saw two peacocks.
After a rest in the afternoon, we walked all the way round the lake - it was very pleasant on the side of the lake away from town. The route was partly along ghats, partly along tracks, sometimes going through temples.
We finally completed our tea paraphernalia - couldn't find tea bags, so we had to buy loose tea and a tea strainer.
Woken up by raucous loudspeakers at 4:45 am! Even they were drowned out after 5:45 am by frenetic drumming and bell ringing from the nearby Hindu temple. Indians seem to thrive on noise. Pushkar has loudspeakers on lamp poles all over town, which broadcast ear-splitting distorted music from an unbelievably early hour until bedtime.
Although it was supposed to be open at 8:00 am, at that time there was no sign of activity at the restaurant where we had dinner last night, so we had breakfast at the tourist bungalow - quite a nice looking place, in fact the best looking place in Pushkar, and curiously it seemed almost deserted. Perhaps the crowds don't come until the fair actually starts. There was a nice garden looking out over fields, and we sat there for a while until the sun got too hot. All the while, from far across the lake, there came non-stop, almost hypnotic drumming and chanting "Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Hare, Hare..". It wasn't unpleasant like the other amplified music.
We then walked out to the area of the fair again, and had a look at the "Tourist Village", a vast area of tents rented at 700 rupees/night for a couple. For this you got the tent, two charpoys and two chairs; meals were also included. They were still putting finishing touches to it, and there was still no-one staying there. The tents were almost touching each other. Security must be a problem.
We took it easy by the pool in the afternoon - my "affliction" is not clearing up and I don't have a lot of energy. We ate dinner at the nearby restaurant again, but I wasn't very hungry. It was quite cold by the time we were walking back to the hotel.
I still wasn't feeling any better, so decided it is time to see a doctor. The hotel owner gave us a letter of introduction to Dr Mantri, the head of the local hospital. The hospital is right at the opposite end of town, and it was a drag to walk there. When we arrived, we presented the letter and were told to sit and wait. We weren't sure that they had understood that we wanted a consultation. While we were waiting, there was a commotion and an injured Rajasthani man was carried in, bleeding profusely from the face. He was accompanied by perhaps a dozen wailing women. He was taken off behind a curtain, and the crowd accompanying him tried to follow, but were firmly told to stay in the entry hall where we were waiting. An older lady, probably his wife, sat on the floor holding a blood covered shoe and carried on wailing. Eventually, Dr Mantri came, and took us off to his office in another building. After some questions, he decided it is probably a virus, perhaps caused by a mosquito bite, and gave me a prescription for 4 things - antibiotics, fever control, a gargle for the sore throat which had persisted since Bangkok, and something else. The bill was 50 rupees for the consultation, and 62 rupees for the medicines (mostly for the gargle which was relatively expensive).
We bought a large number of postcards to send off as Christmas cards, since it didn't seem very likely that we would be able to get the real thing. We wanted to send them off fairly early to let people know that we are not at home so they don't bother sending us any. We also bought some food to have on the long train journey to Goa (one day and one night on the train, then a day in Bombay, then another night and day on the train).
This was the day work was supposed to start on the construction of the temple at Ayodhya. It has to start between 9:44 and 11.28 am, the date and time having been selected by astrologers as the most auspicious time. No-one seemed to know what to expect.
We were woken as usual at 5:00 am by the chanting, got up at 6:00, and left at 6:45 to catch the bus to Ajmer to catch our train south at 8:35. We didn't believe it at first when we got to the bus stop and were told that the buses weren't running - on strike! We thought it was the usual racket to get you to rent something more expensive, but it turned out to be true. We got the last two seats in a shared taxi/jeep. We were squeezed on to the front seat, and I was only half on it. There was no door, so every bend, I had to hang tight to avoid falling out - and the road was full of bends going over the mountain pass. We saw lots of peacocks near the pass, including flocks of chicks. There was a spectacular view of Ajmer as we came over the crest - the sun just rising and shining on a low lying layer of smoke from cooking fires.
There were large numbers of police at the station. We found that the train, the Ahmedabad Mail which was coming from Delhi, was going to be one and a half hours late. We got a good space with just 4 people for 8 seats in the compartment. Unfortunately, at a station about an hour later, a family of enormous fat people got on. Two women needed one and a half seats each, and they could hardly stand and walk they were so overweight. They had enormous quantities of luggage which filled every corner in the compartment. They never stopped eating, and seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of food. Eventually, they left and went to the women's compartment. One of the other men in the compartment with us smiled and made namaste! It turned out that he was very knowledgable about everything on the route, and gave us lots of information. All day, every station we went through was under heavy armed guard (usually soldiers or police had their rifle attached to their belt with a chain to stop it being snatched). Several of the towns were under curfew. At Beawar, we saw three youths being taken off in chains. In South Rajasthan, in the area of Mount Abu, there were interesting outcrops of rocky mountains. Once we crossed into Gujarat, we left the arid lands and got back into farmland. We passed the remains of six derailments - apparently they occurred during the monsoon period. They hadn't even bothered to remove the freight from the wagons.
Coming into Ahmedabad, in the dark, we heard a lot of reports; we weren't sure if they were gunshots or fireworks. Ahmedabad had been having a lot of trouble and was partly under curfew, but there were so many bangs we concluded they must be fireworks. From the train, by the Sabarmati River, we were able to see Ghandi's first ashram, where he lived from 1918 to the early 1930s. In Ahmedabad station, there was a train with half the carriages burned, and the windows in the other half smashed. Apparently it had been stopped in the suburbs of Ahmedabad earlier in the day by rocks on the line. Not very reassuring.
We had to change trains in Ahmedabad. We tried to change our reservations to one of two earlier trains which started in Ahmedabad, but had no luck, so we had to wait a couple of hours for the 22:35 Saurashtra Mail, which originated in western Gujarat. We had a bit of a panic when the train arrived - our coach number wasn't there, and we had the prospect of a night on the train with neither a bed nor even a seat. However, they added an extra coach which was ours. Our bunks weren't adjacent - mine was in the corridor (this was a broad gauge train, and they have an extra row of bunks, two high, along the corridor). At least they were upholstered, but they were pretty hard.
Not a very good night's sleep - my bed was too small and too hard. Coming into Bombay in the early morning, the suburbs seemed to go on for ever. There were frequent electric commuter trains zipping along in both directions. Suddenly, at one stop, we noticed that we and two other tourists seemed to be the only ones left in the coach - we didn't even seem to be in a station, but because we were at the end of the train (our coach was added on the end last night), we were off the end of the platform. We then started going backwards, fortunately not far before we were shunted into the adjacent platform. We found that several coaches, including ours, had been disconnected. We had to jump down and walk along the track before we got to the platform, and we just managed to get on the main part of the train before it continued. No-one bothers to tell you anything. It turned out that this station was Dadar, from where our train to Goa leaves tonight.
As soon as we arrived at Bombay Central, we took a taxi to Victoria Terminus, and went to the reservation office to confirm our trip to Goa (we didn't have our coach and berth numbers at this point). We tried to upgrade to first class, but that wasn't successful. In fact, the reservation clerk tried to tell us that the train was completely full and that we didn't have a reservation on it. Eventually, they gave in when we wouldn't take no for an answer. Our ticket caused some head scratching - they couldn't figure out how the fares on it had been arrived at. We thought for a brief time that we were going to have to pay more, but we misheard and it was such a small amount they let us off.
We had breakfast in the station restaurant, then Jill went and had a shower in the Ladies Waiting Room, lining up with all the Indian women. We left our bags in the Left Luggage Office, and set off to explore a bit more of Bombay. We stopped first at the Main Post Office to mail a letter to Susan, and we also bought the stamps for all our Christmas postcards. We had to get three large stamps for each card - they'll never fit on! Contrary to expectations, there was absolutely no lineup - we went straight to the counter. We walked around the Colaba area, but it seemed very hot so we started heading back to VT. We saw a lot of people sitting on the grass outside the Prince of Wales Museum, so we did likewise. Jill was tired so lay down for a nap, but she was hardly down before a guard came and escorted us out of the grounds. Obviously, it's alright to sit and even picnic, but as soon as you lie down, you become an undesirable. We also had a walk around Bombay University, another splendid Indo-Saracenic set of buildings, but really quite a small facility. We had dinner near VT, but neither of us were very hungry - enjoyed having just chicken soup and ice cream. We then had to take the local commuter train out to Dadar Junction where our train was leaving from. We were assured that all of the trains went to Dadar; there were several in (they leave about every three minutes) so we got on one which was still fairly empty. It sat there for a long time, and by the time it left, it was absolutely packed. We didn't know which side of the train we had to get out at (not all stations are the same). Fortunately, someone was able to tell us, but we still had to almost fight to get through to the door to get off. We had our bags with us which didn't make it any easier.
On the Goa train (the Mahalaxmi Express), we found that our berths, 40/41 weren't actually together, but we managed to trade a place with someone. The rest of the compartment (and some other space) was filled by a big family group with loads of luggage, but it wasn't bad when everyone settled down.
We read in the paper that 11 people were killed at Ayodhya yesterday, and that several hundred kar sevaks got through the cordon and planted saffron flags on top of the mosque, but no work started on demolishing the mosque or building the new temple.
