Jaipur

09/06/2013

Another bad night sleep, this time I dreamt a man and a woman outside had taken the air conditioning unit off the wall and climbed into our room to rob us.  I can remember hiding from a guy walking around the room and then thinking “no! He can’t rob me!” and jumping out of bed and checking I still had my netbook and tablet.  Then I couldn’t get back to sleep as I was so on edge and kept peering up at the AC unit waiting for it to be taken off again and be faced with the mysterious woman in black and her side-kick.  In hindsight I could have clearly taken them both.  I must remember to be more ballsy in my sleepwalking. 

Turns out that despite me speaking to the Tourist Info guy on the phone the day before and him telling us we were definitely leaving at 11pm tonight to get the train to Mumbai our driver insists we are leaving 9am tomorrow morning.  He goes to collect the tickets and it turns out he’s right (what the man on the phone was on about is a complete mystery).  This means we need to stay at the hotel for a second night (when we’ve only paid for one) and we’re arriving at 06:30am in Mumbai with our big bags and nowhere to stay and no internet access to find somewhere to stay.  It’s day 3 without internet and I’m suddenly at my limit!  We ask if there’s anywhere nearby with internet and the answer is no.  Brilliant.  Housten, we have a problem.  I MUST check my emails, I MUST check my Facebook, I need contact with the world!!!! I’m used to have it wherever I am whenever I want, 3 days is too long.  I’ve developed a twitch in my eye.

We have another guide for the day and he takes us to the old palace.  It’s only 10am and it is absolutely boiling!  We speak to the guide and it turns out we are in India in the hottest time of the year.  What a perfect time for Caucasian English folk to visit India!  Even the locals are struggling in the heat, you see them frequently just laying down in the shade here, there any everywhere they find a spot so how we’re still standing is a miracle.  Luckily the palace had utilized a lot of innovative designs to keep it cool without having electricity so the parts we looked at inside would have a cool breeze at least which offered temporary relief before you were back out in the 40° heat again.  

Man taking a nap on the central reservation.  Definitely the best place he could have found to nap.

We both drank over 2 litres of water each within 90 minutes and I didn’t wee until 4pm when we stopped for food.  That gives an idea of how much we were sweating!  (Will more than me, I’m a lady, I perspire perfume).  I’ve never struggled so much with stairs in my life.  I think I got up them easier just after I’d broken my back when getting up to go to the toilet would wipe me out for an hour.  We’d walk up half a flight and I’d need to sit down afterwards.  I’m definitely going to need a bungalow when I’m old and wear purple (that’s a funny poem, check out my ‘notes’ on Facebook if you want to read it, it’s exactly how I’ll be when I’m an OAP).

There was a small temple outside the palace and all the locals were going in.  They’d all kiss their hands then touch the top of the door frame and then the floor on entering.  Inside there was a bell that they’d ring (symbolic of ringing a doorbell when you wish to enter someone’s house) then there were lots of candles burning and they’d run their hand through the flame and then run their hands through their hair before kneeling down on the floor to give worship.

The old palace was very spectacular so it was worth tolerating the heat to see it.  The King had had 2 wives that had both had their own apartments and they had made the palace extremely beautiful using mosaics and mirrors.  They had used great ideas to cool the place and to communicate with the servants and it was very interesting to hear about it.

The King had also built a lake and a floating garden outside so he could grow saffron which needs moisture and cooler temperatures.  

Jaipur has a wall built all around it reminiscent of the Great Wall of China.  It’s 20ft high and 9 ft wide and is 18km long.  It took 18 years to build and surrounds the city entirely encompassing the 3.5 million population.  

I go so very red when I’m hot and look like a massive tool to run the risk of being overly descriptive.  The blonde hair seems to make the colour stand out even more and I just glow.  They could use my boat race after a work out as means to stop traffic.  Despite my off-putting appearance people were still wanting to take photos with us, a lot!  It was like being a celebrity!

Some of my many fans :o)

Having the car waiting outside was amazing as we could get straight in and cool down.  Most buses aren’t air conditioned and even though tuk tuk’s are open the air is so hot and close they’re too hot to use.  If we didn’t have the car waiting there was a high chance I probably would have just passed out if I knew I couldn’t escape the heat instantly.  It would have been fun for Will in the scorching heat to have to carry my limp body back down a hill to find me water.  I wouldn’t have blamed him for just leaving me and saving himself.

 

Our driver took us back to the fabric warehouse to pick up our stuff and one of the workers who spoke very good English had a chat with Will regarding the tuxedo, which he knew exactly what it was.  Where was he last night?!  Will ended up getting one ordered so was measured up (I checked and there was no cupping).  Whilst this was happened I tried on my top and one of the men showed me how to do a sari.  You’re meant to wear a petticoat underneath which is what you tuck it into to hold it up but as I didn’t have one they gave me a potato sack type thing to do the job instead.  I tied it up nice and tightly so it would hold up the weight of the silk and the man set about showing me how to fix it.  He was very over-zealous with his folding and I’m guessing felt that his potato sack wasn’t secure enough for the sari and proceeded to tuck it into my skimpy lace thong also.  Thongs are known for their sturdiness!

Due to the weight of the sari it was dragging down my potato sack and now my pants with it so the level at which he was tucking was literally at the top of the pubic zone and he was also shoving his hand right down to tuck in the sari!  I don’t know if he was doing it on purpose knowing us western sluts wear skimpy underwear or if he honestly didn’t realize he was doing it but either way he got an eyeful and a stroke-full of the nether regions.  Filthy bugger. 

It is a gorgeous sari though, I can’t wait to wear it! Shame I can’t rock it at home….or can I?

After the fabric factory we went to the observatory.  The old King had been very interested in stars and horoscopes and he commissioned the observatory to be built designing a lot of the pieces himself.  There are giant sundials that have only a 20 second inaccuracy, items that show you the specific constellations, what horoscope month we’re in etc.  One of the sun dials had 2 sides at a 180° angle to each other depending what 6 months of the year they are in.  As India is on the equator the sun’s angle changes massively through the seasons, until I saw those sundials I had no idea but how much.  Where we’re on the top of the globe we have no real change.

Lots more people took photos of us here.  Some of them will ask for you to pose and others just take them.  I had to stop and put more suncream on and it was like I was putting on a show!  Suncream will be alien to them over here anyway as they have no need for it but I wasn’t expecting such attention for it.  It is quite amusing. (Until they follow you on a motorbike for an hour then, not so much). 

Our guide showed us a museum with all of the old kings robes in.  How he wore any of these in this heat is beyond me.  They were so heavy and thick!  He was also a champion polo player who won many tournaments.  The current King is only 15 years old and clearly has some big shoes to fill (once he’s grown some more).  The previous King only had 1 daughter and a woman can’t take the throne so her son became King when her Father died.  It’s definitely better having  a kid who barely has pubes ruling a city than a woman.  What do women know?!

The current king is the child on the left, the family on the right is the old King, his wife (to his right) and his daughter (the mother of the current King)

We picked up some bottled water then headed back to the car.  Halfway through the bottles Will said that they had broken seals so we binned them and bought some more, crossing our fingers it was purely a weak seal rather than re-filled water.

After here we drove through the Pink City.  All the buildings were painted pink in honour of a visit from the Prince of Wales in the mid 1800’s and since then they have had to keep them all pink.  It sounds garish but it’s a nice type of pink and the streets are kept nice and clean here too.  

One of the gates into the city

 We stopped for a late lunch and I had the best Korma I’ve ever had! (Yes, I had a korma.  I don’t like spicy food and I was hungry! I wanted to eat something I’d enjoy!).  We’ve not seen onion baji’s anywhere, or pashwari naans or mango chutney.  These must be English versions of Indian food, they didn’t even seem to know what mango chutney or onion baji’s were!

They had a guy in there playing a traditional Indian musical instrument, a bit like a one string fiddle thing.  It sounded like a bag of cats being raped.  We were the only people in there and every time the wailing ceased (I’m guessing that must have been the end of his ‘song’) he would demand our attention like a needy child to give him praise.  I’d have praised him for burning the thing and burying the ashes!

When I went to the toilet I was in for a treat; toilet paper!!!! They had 2 spare rolls in there too so I pocketed one.  I’m sure the footnote in the bible under the 10 commandments allows stealing when you are in a country that doesn’t believe in the wonders of toilet paper and you’re waiting for Delhi belly to hit you at any minute. 

After lunch we went up to a fort on top of the mountain, I recognized the road from the Top Gear India special when they race up it in all forms of transport.  Halfway up we stop to take in the view and my stomach starts to churn a bit.  I whisper to Will I need the toilet who loudly asks (in front of our fluent guide) if it’s a number 1 or a number 2.  The guide then says there are toilets at the fort; I was considering jumping behind the wall with my stolen bog roll and just going for it, but I refrained and commenced clenching.

All the way up the hill I’m concentrating on keeping clenched (I can’t hold a poo for long normally so my fear was well justified) and praying with every corner turned that we’d be faced with a fort entrance with toilets right next door.  We finally arrive at the fort and I’m in awe that the seat beneath me is still clean!  We go through the gates and I ask where the toilets are; about 500 yards away.  That’s like running a marathon before you can take the stone out of your shoe!  I start off on a brisk walk but this is bitter/sweet as although I’m getting to the toilet faster the jiggling motion is shunting the poop further and further down the shute.  (Unnecessarily graphic description?  Probably, but I want you to understand my discomfort). 

It’s at this perfectly convenient point that my lovely, handmade Indian sandals decide to break after only having worn them for half a day.  In a style likened to the Forest Gump scene where his leg braces come apart I rip the shoe from my foot without breaking stride, thrust it at Will and continue charging forth with my tunnel vision blocking out the burning sensation from my foot on the hot rocks.

After a power walk up an incline I blast past 2 men I think were wanting money for the toilet, they must have seen the look in my eye and knew not to stop me.  I nearly didn’t even stop to lock the door!  My stolen toilet paper was infact a gift from heaven as the toilet had none of its own and that would not have been pretty!

As soon as I was out I swallowed two anti-diarrhoea  tablets to ensure that did not happen again!  (I’m writing this up 24hrs later and so far so good!) 

After the initial panic we fixed my shoe with a safety pin to enable me to walk and we looked round the rest of the fort.  The view over the city was absolutely incredible!  It was at this point that my camera decided to die.  First the shoe then the camera.  The only design flaw in my camera is that for some reason Fuji decided you didn’t need a battery indicator.  It flashes up red literally seconds before it shuts down and that’s notice enough it would seem!  It meant I wasn’t able to get a full panoramic shot of the best view of the city.  Typical!

2 parts of a 3 part panaromic (camera died before getting the final part)

On the way back down the mountain we saw loads of wild peacocks, the national bird of India.  The guide was like a professional pea spotter.  He could see a camouflaged pea hen from 20 yards!  I wonder if he can do the same with speed cameras....I might have to bring him home with me if so.

We got back to the hotel after a good day taking in the sights of Jaipur and the men from the suit shop came round for Will’s fitting.  The jacket was a bit too big (despite me saying in the shop he wanted slim fitting not comfort and both him and the salesman disagreed with me) so he needs it taken in by 1.5 inches.  The trousers also don’t showcase his fantastic bottom either so I requested that to be altered too.  I fine thing such as that must be showed off. 

They gave me my sari (as they’d taken it back to hem it) and the guy offered to help me put it on again.  Yeah I’m not surprised Pervy Perverson!  Think I’ve got this myself, cheers. 

Jaipur has a lot of history and character and things to see and we both said it was our favourite place so far.  When Will was looking at our schedule he had wanted to skip it all together so I’m glad we didn’t.  We are now up there with the A list greats of Liz Hurley, Julia Roberts and, best of all, Ricki Martin who have all visited Jaipur.

Travelling to Jaipur

The journey to Jaipur was better than the one to Agra; the roads were  a lot quieter so there was less beeping and swerving and hard breaking and we were able to sleep for a couple of hours after our early start.  The scenery was predominantly countryside with the odd bustle of huts and shacks with their standard stray dogs and cows chilling out in the streets but there were a lot more cows in the road.  They’re not fazed by cars at all!  They’ll just graze on the grass of the central reservation without a care in the world.  Cars will speed past or beep and they’ll just stand there with a ‘give a crap’ attitude.  If cows could shrug indifference these would. 

We arrived at the hotel and were greeted by a big sign with all the listed facilities and very clearly one of those facilities was ‘internet’.  Turns out that was a big fat lie.  It’s only been 2 ½ days so I was able to cope with another day.  Annoyingly the travel updates I was posting onto Facebook through text message were back-dating comments received before I left.  So my phone was regularly going off making me think someone was being nice and texting and it was just a funny comment from a mate taking the piss out of me from the 5 days previously. 

As it was only 4pm (despite the driver wanting to call it a night, no such luck, buddy) we headed into town.  We stopped to take some photos and I was hounded by a man selling homemade sandals.  In all fairness they were really nice and he insisted on me trying them on which I did and despite having feet apparently much larger than all Indian women we found a pair that fitted me.  I was trying to tell myself my feet were swollen from the heat but I think they’re just swollen with fat.  During the trying on of nearly every shoe he had we had gone from being just us and him to a little gathered crowd watching the white woman try on shoes!

The sandals were nice and they were homemade and he only wanted £4 a pair so I ended up buying 2.  We were heading to a fabric factory afterwards and I wanted a sari so some Indian style sandals would go well with it. 

Upon arriving at the factory we were asked if we were interested in buying a rug, another of those easy to pack items you can take home on the plane after carrying it around India with you for the rest of your trip!  After a lot of bartering and hard ball I got a 100% silk sari and custom made top to go with it for £38 instead of £65.  My advantage had been going in there late in the day and spending so long deliberating that after half an hour of back-and-forth and me getting up to leave and seemingly waste all their time they caved as they just wanted to go home for their dinner.   Win for me!

Will had originally gone into the shop to get traditional Indian robes as every man needs traditional Indian robes!  Especially a British man.  But then he changed his mind to a normal grey suit and then after a lot of discussion about what fabric he wanted and a lot of bartering to get a price for a 3-piece he then decided he wanted a tux.  (If a woman had done that she’d have never heard the end of it).  The folks we were chatting to didn’t know what a tux was and kept showing him very Indian style suits that in no way likened to a tux.  I appreciated their efforts to get a sale but it was like someone going into a pet store for a puppy and being sold a hamster.  He settled for a custom made shirt for £20 (what he would pay in Debenhams off the rack so not too shabby) and we left, headed back to the hotel for dinner then went to bed.  

Agra & The Taj Mahal

08/06/2013

We were up at 04:30 to meet the driver at 05:00 to go to the Taj Mahal.  Due to the early start I slept terribly as always dreaming that we’d got picked up in the wrong car and were going to the wrong place and had lost our driver or we had overslept.  Plus my standard sleep walking around the room fiddling with things and waking Will up to deal with my imaginary problems.  As I went into the bathroom for a morning wee the presence of the log reminded me that unfortunately wasn’t a dream and we still had to get it round the U-bend.  Luckily the water must have softened it in the night so one bucket of water had him away.

The driver was already outside waiting.  One of the guys offered to carry my bag down the treacherous 3 steps but I assured him I could handle it myself and proved this by struggling, grunting and almost dropping it down the stairs.  But I’ll keep my 20 rupees!  (That’s about 25p.  Worth it).  We headed off to pick up our guide and I couldn’t believe how many people were around at 5am!  Most of the local shops were open and people were out on bikes.  Once we picked up our guide we drove round to the entrance of the gardens before the Taj Mahal and it was teeming with people playing badminton and cricket and sitting around chatting like it was a Saturday afternoon!  I’m guessing they get up early to enjoy being outside before the heat gets too unbearable.  The gardens were also filled with rhesus monkeys with their babies and loads of stray dogs and chipmunks.  It always amuses me how fundamentally different the cartoon chipmunks in Alvin and the Chipmunks look to the real life ones.  There are no similarities whatsoever.  It’s like they took a chipmunk and changed everything about it then still called the cartoon ‘chipmunks’ for no other reason than to annoy those that know what a chipmunk looks like and care enough about trivial things such as children’s cartoons when you’re an adult in their late twenties to let it bother them.   

 Look how many people are just chilling in the park at 5am!!!!

A real life chipmunk.....

The popular cartoon show, Alvin and The Chipmunks.  As you can see, an uncanny resemblance to really aid children in identifying animals

As it was so early there was no queue to get into the Taj Mahal so we walked straight in.  At first there was a courtyard area to walk through which brought you out through the north gate.  When you catch sight of the Taj Mahal it is as impressive as it appears in photos and on the TV, there’s been no photoshopping or post production enhancements to make it look brighter or grander than it actually is.  It is naturally a spectacular sight.  When you think how quickly a magnolia wall gets dirty it’s amazing that it is still so pristinely white after nearly 400 years! 

As we walked through the gardens our guide set us up in some brilliantly awkward and precise poses for some photos.  They scream ‘natural’ like he just caught us chilling out and taking in the view....

 Will could barely get his leg in this position but there was no room for suggestion, the man had a vision

The classic tourist shot, it's like pretending to push the Leaning Tower of Pisa, it must be done so no point fighting it

The Taj Mahal is made from the finest marble which deflects light allowing it to appear to glow.  It has carvings all over it and it is also decorated with small, coloured flowers made from semi-precious stones from all over the world from China to Belgium.  Each piece of the flower was hand carved taking around 2hrs to complete each piece and each flower is made up of 70 pieces.  The marble is then filed away and the pieces were glued into place.  I must take off my hat (I was actually wearing one at the time as you can see) to the glue manufacturer who has kept stones attached to marble in 40° heat for nearly 400 years.  I tried sticking a pendant back on a necklace once and it lasted a day. 

The guide explained how the design came from 7 different design ideas taking parts from each one; the main dome from Turkey, the 4 smaller domes are Muslim from Afghanistan the arches in the walls Egyptian and the 4 towers have completely slipped my mind.  I can’t for the life of me remember the origin of these and it’s driving me insane!  I’ve even tried looking it up online and can’t find it.  The towers were build at a 92° angle away from the building so if they ever fell they’d fall away from it and not into it.  Smart!  You wouldn’t want to be the guy that rocked up to work to build the tower slightly hung-over one day and your shoddy workmanship got you be-headed for destroying the Taj Mahal!

It was built for Queen Mumtaz Mahal (‘Taj’ meaning ‘crown’) by the King at her request.  After popping out 13 kids she died in childbirth with the 14^th (died in childbirth/lost the will to live having squeezed out enough children for a premier league football tip plus subs.  ‘Squeezed’ probably wasn’t the right word….).  On her deathbed she gave her husband her final wishes.  I’d have thought ‘look after the kids, be happy, remember me but move on, don’t give the kids too much junk food and don’t forget to unblock the gutters in autumn.’  But this chick had a different idea.  Her demands were as follows;

1)      You are not to ever re-marry!

2)      You must build me a huge memorial building that will house my body

3)      It must be the 7^th Wonder of the World

Understandable demands.  Not at all over the top.  14 kids is a lot and deserves some credit but a 120,000,000,000 rupee building taking 22,000 slaves 22 years to build was quite a high demand!  (Maybe that’s why they don’t have toilet roll, their taxes are still through the roof to pay off this bill!)

Inside the Taj is just one room with a carved barrier protecting the tomb of the Queen.  Next to her, disconcertingly off centre, is the tomb of the King.  Quite a kick in the balls to just be chucked into his wife’s shrine you might think?  True.  He had wanted to build himself a black Taj Mahal over the other side of the river for when he died.  But for whatever reason (maybe thinking that 120,000,000,000 rupees could be spent more wisely on maybe surveying the need for bin-men and increasing the standard required to pass a driving test) his son took unfavourably to his Father’s idea and threw him in prison instead so he couldn’t build it.  To rub salt in the wound he imprisoned him in Agra fort in a room which painfully overlooks the Taj Mahal so he could see everyday what he would never have for himself.  (I bet he painfully scrutinised his parenthood in that cell, “damn those  educational’ toys I got him for Christmas. Always go for the latest short-lived fad.  Stupid. Stupid!”)

It's a hazy day but you can make out the Taj in the distance

On the east and west side of the Taj are two identical buildings; to the east is a guest house and to the west is a mosque, both built out of red sandstone. 

It was definitely worth getting up so early for.  Firstly for the colour the rising sun gave the building, secondly for the peaceful tranquillity of only a few other tourists (except the rude little jerk sweeping outside that told me to ‘move’ so he could sweep the leaves by my feet.  They’ll still be there in 15 seconds time jackass!  I pointed out how much it costs people to visit this place and he wants to wind his neck in.  Clearly ‘wind your neck in’ was not lost on a lower-class Indian lad speaking English as a second language, not at all) and thirdly for the fact you could enjoy the place without the unbearable heat!  It’s obvious why it’s one of the wonders of the world.  Its an incredible example of superb craft-man-ship and very beautiful to behold.  I’m very glad I’ve been able to see it myself.  

As it was only 7am we went back to the hotel for breakfast and a quick nap.  Will reminded me why he’s not authorized to have alarm duties as he always turns it off and we oversleep! 

When we got outside 6 stray dogs were all lying underneath the car taking shade from the sun.

We went to see Agra Fort which is where the British Army were based when we had control of India and, of course, where the King was imprisoned by his son.

After that we were taken to where they made the stones that were used in the Taj Mahal.  It’s a very slow process to make each piece and is a skill only passed down from Father to son.  The items they made (and tried to sell us) were very nice but I don’t think my 23kg luggage allowance would give me room to bring back a coffee table….We settled for a magnet instead.

This concluded our visit to Agra, there wasn’t really anything else left to see. 

We wanted to go to ‘Ghost Town’ on the way to Jaipur which was the old capital city and when it was moved to Delhi everyone just upped and left and left the place empty!  Our driver (after a lot of repeating and over pronunciation to get him to understand where we wanted to go despite the Tourist Information dude telling us he’d take us there) he said it wasn’t empty at all but very busy.  He clearly wasn’t keen to go there and his English conveniently deteriorated when we tried to argue with him so we gave up.  If there are people living there then I’m happy not having gone as it was a 50km detour on an already long journey but if he lied to us I’ll not be able to do much about it except curse him strongly and send him bad thoughts.  

Arrival in Agra

After 5 hours of pot holes, crazy multiple speed bumps (think of the short but high ones you get in supermarkets or multi-storey car parks and how annoying they are, these are 8 of them all together with the sole purpose to destroy all sign of suspension in the car), LOTS of beeping, superhuman abilities to avoid potentially fatal road accidents we arrived in Agra.  It had got dark by this point and the ‘beep for everything’ rule has been expanded to beeping and flashing of headlights, incase people’s hearing had gone down with the sun.  I thought the roads in Delhi were insane until we arrived in Agra.  Noone stays in lanes anyway so add darkness to that and you just get a complete jumble of vehicle lights forcing through in every which-way all beeping and flashing and following their own personal rules of the road which solely consist of one rule; ‘do what the hell you want’.  Unsurprisingly we had been in the city for less than 5 minutes when someone pulled through 2 lanes of traffic on the other side of the road and onto our side and drove into our stationary vehicle.  This must happen a lot as the drivers shouted at each other in Indian as they passed but the offender carried on on his merry way with no insurance exchange or even checking the damage he’d caused.  Our driver then got out of this car (still in the middle of a 2-3 lane busy road) and checked his car.  Swearing at an absent person was more pressing than taking 15 seconds to pull over onto the side of the road rather than running the risk of getting sandwiched between 2 vehicles leaving two shell-shocked Westerns in the back who were close to getting out and just running, screaming into the night.

We were worried as it was a front collision that it would have damaged the radiator and we’d be left without transport or, worse still, no AC!  Turns out he just damaged the light so we carried on and finally made it to the hotel by 9pm after leaving Delhi (185km away) at 15:30 that afternoon.

We don’t have seatbelts in the back but the driver has put a bolt through his to stop it retracting and it just hangs limp.  He doesn’t wear it until he comes into a city then he just throws it over his shoulder.  As it’s bolted it would have absolutely no safety benefits whatsoever so I guess he does that just to stop him getting a fine maybe but I don’t really understand his reluctance to be safe, especially in a country where there’s such a risk of head-on collisions.  I’d definitely feel a lot better if I could wear my seatbelt!

The hotel was nice and clean and the staff were very friendly and helpful.  They want to do everything for you but for a price.  One guy carried my bag up 3 steps then wanted a tip.  Here’s a tip, it’s your job as a bell-hop to do that.  Carry it up a full-flight and I might consider it but 3 measly steps just gets you a smile and a thanks, my friend.  They have no sense of social awkwardness either, or they just choose to ignore it. We asked for toilet roll in our room (as we have about 6 squares) and they brought it and 2 of them stood there waiting for a tip.  One for the execution and one for the supervisory element I presume.  Sorry bud but you’ve got to go above and beyond for a tip else I’d be tipping you for having sheets on the bed and glass in the windows too. 

As we’d been travelling pretty much solidly since 12pm the previous day and were still in the same clothes the shower was calling to me so I headed off for a nice warm shower and hair wash only to be greeted by a ‘shower’ (term used loosely) with 4 ‘jets’ of water (term used even looser) that could only be likened to a pinprick in a water balloon at best.  Cats could have happily held a ‘Cats against wetness’ meeting sat directly underneath it without noticing.  We also realized we had forgotten shower gel so my dream of a soapy warm shower had ran down the drain with the egg cup worth of water that had been expelled from the shower in the last 5 minutes. 

To top off the high quality bathroom facilities that we had Will had decided to challenge the toilet to deal with an oversized rusty submarine (plus the deadly western toilet paper) and the toilet had succumbed without a fight and was refusing to flush.  4 bucket of water down the loo later and it was still laying at the bottom of the bowl like a trophy to the triumphant beaver who had just felled a tree singlehandedly.  It was obvious by this point that our log friend was going to have to spend the night so we closed the lid and ignored it, praying the stench wasn’t going to creep through the wood of the door in the night. 

So our first day in India has been a definite experience!  We’re off to see the Taj Mahal at sunrise in the morning  which I’m sure will be amazing and no doubt we’ll adjust soon to carrying toilet roll, hovering over holes in the floor, car beeps will melt into ‘white noise’ and it will seem normal take evasive action to avoid hitting grazing cattle on a motorway.  Hey, we’re in India!

The Journey to Agra (and the re-enforcement of my belief in the need for Road Tax)

The Lotus Temple is apparently the only thing really worth seeing in Delhi (anyone I’ve spoken to said they left Delhi straight after arriving, it’s not a horrible place but there isn’t really much to see).  There’s the Red Fort but we were told Agra fort is very much the same but a lot bigger so to go there instead.  So we decided to start out 186km drive down to Agra.  Now, in my mind that’s about as far as Weymouth to London so that’s roughly 3 hours.  Turns out the large amount of road tax we pay and our strict driving laws do a lot for our travel times as roads are properly cemented, pot holes remain at a maximum size of about  15cm² and you’re not constantly having to slam the brakes on and make evasive manoeuvres.  The Journey to Agra was expected to take at least 5hrs (we made it to the hotel in 6hrs) and the whole way we were lucky to hit 50km/h.  No wonder the bus took 7hrs! 

Cars seem to be able to overtake on either side and they don’t even need a lane to do it in.  If there’s space to get past they’ll go through whether it’s on the other side of the road with oncoming traffic metres away from you (central reservations don’t even deter them), or if it causes a tuk tuk or smaller vehicle to be pushed out of the way/almost capsized or even if it’s off the boundaries of the road in the dirt.  If they want to get past then by jove they’ll find a way!  Right of way seems to purely be done on how big your vehicle is so the bicycles get a really bum deal and lorries pretty much just do what they want and everyone else just avoids them.  When any vehicles pass each other the car coming from behind beeps to signal they are there.  This could be quite a good idea when passing large lorries with big blind spots but I remain confident that’s it’s easier for other cars to just check their mirrors and indicate.  I think I saw 1 car indicate during our whole journey (and as I write this up more than 24hrs later our driver has not indicated once).  Beeping accounts for indicating, breaking, changing lanes, mirror checks, overtaking and anything else except actually warning drivers to a hazard (which I believe is the original intention of the horn but after so long listening to them beep I think they were purely intended to make me pray for deafness)  Mirror, signal, manoeuvre? Just beep.  Think Bike?  Just beep.  Look, look then look again?  Beep!  Right-of-way? Right of what? I think you mean beep!  The lorries even have ‘beep please’ painted on the back! 

When in the bustle of the city all the beeps just blend into one and it’s quite entertaining witnessing the crazy things the drivers do and the death defying crashes they amazingly avert.  How on earth anyone in Britain has ever crashed a car is unbelievable after seeing these people get by without hitting each other.  It’s got to be seen to be believed. 

With all this constant beeping (literally every 20 seconds maximum) and hard breaking and random, aggressive speed bumps it’s impossible to consider taking a nap on the back seat and with no music to listen to it’s going to be a long drive.

The methods of transport utilized for moving of large objects by locals is hilarious!  We started playing moped bingo to see what the largest, most obscure item we could see being transported on a moped.  The best ones were a 6ft sheet of glass, about 10 steel poles around 8ft in length and a MASSIVE roll of bubble wrap (at least 1.5metres in diameter and about the same in height).  If the locals don’t have mopeds these kind of things are carried on bicycles instead, some pulling carriages some just on their handle bars or strapped above the back wheel.  I had a hard time standing still in Delhi without wanting to faint just to escape the heat so to see these guys fully clothed in trousers and shirts riding bikes is harsh enough but you’ve got to feel for them when they’re pulling such a weight and then have to get off and push their bikes up a hill.  One guy had a cart full of bricks for crying out loud!

Being awake meant I could take in all the scenery though which was interesting.  On the way out of Delhi it was just lots of run down shops selling random things that I can’t imagine many people wanting.  As we got further out these shops became little shacks that sold all sorts of stuff from laptops to Lays (Walkers crisps everywhere else in the world except the UK) and loads of bike helmet stalls despite only maybe 1 in 20 people actually wear them on the road.  There’d be miles and miles of nothing then we’d blast through 25 seconds of bustling markets and shacks and cows and crazy people on mopeds and a horrendous whiff of raw sewage then it would disappear as quickly as it started and we’d be back in the wilderness again. 

The further we got from Delhi the more crazy it seemed to get.  Rules for what side of the road to drive down seemed to go out the window when it came to mopeds or carts and cows started appearing on the side of the road.  They’d just stand around eating garbage (which there is an abundance of everywhere) or wandering across a dual carriageway stopping all the cars or laying down outside a shop with a few locals sat around having a drink and a chat like you would with a pet dog at a BBQ.  All completely normal behaviour for cows of course 

We complain about our council tax but I’ve never appreciated the need for bin men until coming here.  The people empty their bins onto the road side and it just stays there!  I wonder what they think will happen to it  Doesn’t it take something stupid like 150 years for a crisp packet to completely disintegrate?  The cows aren’t going to eat it either and the piles are getting rather high!  We passed rivers and ponds that you couldn’t even tell were water because they were so thick with floating trash.  

2 lane 50kmh road, cow hanging out on the central reservation not giving a toss

The number of people being transported on a moped increased too and it was common to see whole families on one; the woman riding side saddle (performing a miracle that her sari doesn’t get pulled into the tyre ripping it from her body and no doubt dragging her under the wheels with it) and they have their kids sandwiched between them, some very small children.  None wear crash helmets of course, none check their mirrors before they change lane and of course, none have any right of way when it comes to cars, women and children on board or not.  I wouldn’t even want to look up the death toll of these roads. 

They increased the modes of transport to include ox-pulled carriages too  Probably the better option for your brick transporting (but if not I did see a pile or bricks for sale at one point)  Their ability to balance such vast amount of objects on one cart is staggeringly impressive and not to mention gravity defying. I wish I could have stood by the side of the road with my camera as I’d have had enough images to produce one of those viral emails highlighting the non-existence of health and safety and manual handling in these countries in 5 minutes flat!

It’s become clear now that India do not use toilet roll.  Hell you’re lucky to get porcelain outside of café’s, anything along the roadside was just a hole in the ground with a marked place of where to stand and a standard issue ‘toilet fly’ to keep you company.  I am at a miss as to how they successfully cleanse after a poo.  I tried the water thing in Thailand just out of curiosity and it did nothing but wet the mess around the anus, removing none of it.  Luckily we have brought tissues with us so I’ve not found myself in a sticky situation as yet, we’ve probably just clogged up their drainage system .  I thought it might be a cost thing but even shops don’t seem to have it either.  These folk need educating on the effectiveness of a nice roll of andrex!  I’m stumped as to how this hasn’t reached the eastern part of our world.  If Andrew opened up over here no one would give a toss about sliced bread anymore, this would be the invention of the centrury! 

(I don’t even want to imagine what the women do when it comes to their (cough) time of the month.

It was amusing when in the middle of nowhere up popped 2 universities next door to each other (without any other civilization for miles) then in a similarly obscure location there was a development of 4 new building housing a McDonalds, a Hyundai shop and other similar shops.  What customer base they’re catering for out there I wouldn’t know but I did notice ‘McDelivery’ on the signs!  We can invent toilet paper and tampons but we still can’t order-in McDonalds.  UK 528;India 1.

We picked up a motorbike escort along the way.  2 men spent over an hour overtaking us, staring at me through the window then slowing down so we’d overtake them and they’d stare some more then repeating the process.  The creepy guy on the back blew me a kiss at one point which made me gag a bit.  I understand they don’t get many white people here and I don’t mind posing for a photo but he was just being a perv.  He’d been following us for an hour when we hit  toll road, as I didn’t see him straight after I presumed his seedy gawping wasn’t worth 5 rupees and they’d turned around, but I was wrong.  After they’d caught us up then slowed down to gawp again I’d had enough and was worried that we were approaching Agra and I didn’t want them following us to a hotel thinking I was a lone female traveller.  Will had been asleep on my lap this whole time (Will asleep! Surely not!) So I woke him up and I ducked down hoping they’d think it was a different car.  They changed sides so they could see me hiding down low but a good stink eye from the tall white man was enough to make them immediately pull off the road and go back.  Sick puppies.    

India; Arrival in Delhi

07/06/2013

So we have finally landed in India despite their best efforts to seemingly keep us out of their country (do you think word might have reached them that I walked around Auchvietz covered in my own vomit?).  I had previously thought that a) they would have wanted and promoted tourism and b) as Brits we’d get a little preferential treatment considering India was once the ‘jewel in our crown’.  But not so.  New Zealand; yes they can get a Visa on arrival.   Vietnam can get a Visa on arrival and about 10 other countries but not us.  Maybe they didn’t take too kindly to us Brits invading their country and ruling them against their will after all.  Who’d have thought?!  Maybe NZ get preferential treatment as they’re still under the monarchy of us scurvy British and the Indians feel for them.  So for us even Brits to enter the country at all, even for just a day, we needed a Visa costing us £100. On top of that the visa can only be processed in London so you either need to go there personally to collect it or allow 8 working days for it to be processed and posted back to you.  As we had naively presumed that any tourist visa could be completed on landing (as it is anywhere else I’ve been) we didn’t have time to have it posted nor go to London so we had to  get an agency to do it for us for £40.  In addition to that we needed 2 photos 20x20cm (NOT passport size) which required a specialist shop who felt it appropriate and justified to charge £20 for 2 photos this size.  2!  Had I known that I’d have paid the £10 admin fee the agency charged to just grow/shrink any photo to size.  They obviously keep that shop fascia very clean because they definitely saw me coming! 

So after our frantic, turtle heading internet searching and £160 lighter of the bank account we had our passports returned the day before we left, complete with a Visa. 

We also needed jabs and Malaria tablets too before we left.  I had a stroke of luck and my prescription was written up on the wrong form.  It would appear the distraction of my unusual name prevented the Dr who signed it off noticing too (I can never remain unidentified when I do something wrong with a name like ‘Kaiko’ and carving your name into a desk at school left no chance of denial but it does have some advantages).  So I got my £40 Malaria tablets for £7.95  I slight consolation for the whole Visa fiasco but Will wasn’t so lucky.  I’m guessing the nurse had realized her error after I swanned out with £60 work of NHS drugs in my system in exchange for a wink and a smile. 

Attempting to be organized we tried getting our Rupees before we left but after a few phone calls to different *Bureau De Change’s we found it was a controlled currency meaning none can leave the country and you have to get your money on arrival.  Of course you do!  When all the Indian powers-that-be sat around and discussed how to make a trip over here as difficult as possible this would have definitely been on the list after Visa’s, stupid photo sizes and malaria (granted that’s not particularly their fault but I’m still blaming them)

*why is that phrase always in French? Did they invent currency exchange? Why do they get dibs on it?

So to step outside of the airport this morning successfully landed in India was quite an (expensive) achievement.  We concluded that we probably wouldn’t come back so we’d get the most out of this trip and then save our money for countries with free/cheap visa’s on arrival and our energy for letting  anyone know who is thinking of coming to India (or anyone unlucky enough to be around when we want to rant about it) to be prepared for an additional £200 on top of usual holiday costs. (Oh the things that £200 could have bought….sigh).

Luckily we’d asked the chap at the bureau de change how much to expect to pay to get a taxi into the city so when approached by the standard rip-off merchant looking to pray on unexpecting foreigners straight off the plane we were already raising our voice to his quadrupling of the price before he’d even formed a sentence.  Not on our watch, buddy!  We won and he backed down and we ended up paying a very competitive rate.  They always try it though!  I don’t know how they sleep at night, I don’t think they even have Horlicks out here! 

We passed monkey garden on the way, awash with hundreds of no doubt rabid reuses monkeys who, after escaping the shipment to NASA for the next space shuttle launch, were just dumped there to be fed for free by wandering tourists before being bitten and cursing not forking out the £150 for a rabies shot. 

The taxi driver wasn’t sure where he was going and Will’s phone had died (which was our only note of the pre-booked hotel address and my instincts told me now wasn’t the time to highlight how I always print these things off to prevent this ever being an issue) so he ended up taking us to the tourist information centre.  The driver and Will went in leaving me to deal with the beggar who had wiped his dirty rag on the bonnet of the taxi then proceeded to stand at my window staring at me and demanding I pay him.  I swear he added more dirt then he removed and he clearly didn’t understand how taxi’s work.  Yes, he probably didn’t understand how 3 meals a day and a warm bed worked either but the cleanliness of a hired cab was not my issue!

Going into the Tourist Information centre turned out to be a stroke of luck as it seemed our hotel and all the surrounding ones in the area had been closed off for a few days for security reasons.  I was thinking’ bomb scare!’ but it was far more mundane, something to do with them not having licenses.  Unlucky all the surrounding hotels that are running a legit and legal operation as they’ve just lost hundreds of pounds in lost business. 

The chap in the Tourist Information Centre was very helpful and knowledgeable and he was able to organize all our onward travel and accommodation including a driver for 3 days to take us around the Golden Triangle.  Apparently the buses take 7hrs to drive the 185km from Delhi to Agra and the trains are booked well in advance so it was our only viable option. 

Whilst in the office nature called.  I was immediately terrified that despite having only landed an hour ago and not eaten or drunk anything yet that somehow the Delhi air had poisoned my digestive system and I was about to experience the infamous ‘Delhi Belly’.  The office had a ‘wash room’ which was an amusing name for it as I don’t think it had seen any type of washing since a yeti stumbled in carrying a bag of his own filth and blew both it and him up about 4 years ago and the works felt touching any part of his remains would stoke the anger of his ancestors who would then descend on the office armed with rusty poles and unmanageable rage.  (I don’t know if that’s true but it’s the only explanation I can think of as to why this toilet could have been so filthy).  As I was now in India and all toilets would be to this standard I sucked it up and used the facilities, (after picking up the toilet seat off the floor and balancing on the rim, I was just glad there was a seat rather than a hole in the floor).  There, of course, was no toilet paper but luckily we had tissues and by a stroke of luck my bowl movement was relatively normal. Phew!   (I hear an audible sigh of relief from you readers that this blog does indeed include stool consistency.  I aim to please).

Our driver for the next 3 days was outside waiting for us so we headed off for a spot of lunch.  We both ordered the Tandoori chicken which was completely different to the tandoori chicken at home.  It was half a steaming, spiced chicken served with jeera rice (rice with cumin seeds) and garlic naan.  It was really nice!  The chicken was well cooked and the rice was perfect and the naan was light.  When we had finished eating they brought us some little bowls with aniseed balls and small green spices (I should have really asked what it was).  You mixed them together in your hand and chewed them and they acted as a pallet cleanser.  Very affective! I had a couple of goes to ensure I was thoroughly cleansed.

Outside we were greeted by another beggar, this time a woman carrying a baby.  Had we any small change I’d have given it to her just to stop her following us and then banging on the window when we got in the car but we had only just had our money changed and the smallest note was just shy of a tenner.  She stood there banging on the window pointing this skinny baby at us whilst her mate tried shoving paper through the window.  Will had told me about a friend of his who’d been in a taxi in India and a woman had come up and thrown a dead baby through the open window.  The taxi driver had then demanded a pay-off so to not report him.  The guy had refused and was held in jail for 2 days!*  As she was stood there getting more and more annoyed I was worried she was going to ring her own kid’s neck there and then and launch her into the car just out of spite for the rich white folk that wouldn’t help her.

*This did raise questions that couldn’t be answered though.  If this was some kind of organized racquet how does it work?  Surely throwing drugs into a car would be easier to execute?  A dead baby is not something you can pick up by taking a quick drive down a back street and making a sniffing noise at a few people.  Was it her baby? Or do they pass them around the like tramps in town and their dogs? How long had this baby been dead?  (Please forward any answers/suggestions you may have!)

We drove through the city and our driver pointed out the parliament buildings which were very grand and India gate, which is similar to the Arc De Triomph in Paris.  This area of Delhi was very clean and green and well presented.  

We headed out to the Lotus Temple which is a multi faith building.  It’s extremely grand and the design of it is beautiful.  The walk in was quite scenic though and it was the first time we’d been outdoors for more than a few minutes since arriving and it was about 40°!  Will was sweating like a pig and I was my classic beetroot red when a group of guys stopped us to ask for a photo.  We weren’t sure what was going on at first and thought they wanted us to take a picture with them.  But they wanted a photo of them with us!  There was about 6 of them and 4 wanted pictures taken on their own cameras as they swapped around being in the picture.  At first I was quite dubious and thought it was a ploy to pick pocket us, but when they thanked us and left and our belongings were still intact I felt bad for misjudging them.  We continued walking up the temple and realized from the regular looks and inconspicuous and also very blatant photo taking by people we passed that they just liked how we looked!  I noticed Will was taller than everyone and how he dressed was very different to the locals (they all wear shirts and trousers, you notice a chap is wearing a t shirt or jeans as it’s so uncommon and I’ve not seen any of them in shorts) and I’m tall-ish for a woman and obviously have blonde hair and absolutely no tan so we stood out like a sore thumb. 

The Lotus Temple is set in large, luscious grounds with pool’s surrounding it (how we wanted to just ‘accidentally’ fall in by the time we got there).  The building itself is white and looks like a closed flower.  Inside it’s just one large room with lots of benches and a high ceiling.  You’ve already removed your shoes before you get up to the temple and there’s no talking inside and no photos  They invite anyone of any faith to come in and pray to their own God in the peace and tranquillity.  It was a very calming (and cooling!) place.  Definitely worth a visit.