Lookback 6: A quick explore of battered Jaipur

Thursday started with the organisation of our next leg, feeling that Jaipur wasn’t really the best place to stay after the bombs. So train tickets to Jodhpur were booked, a SIM card was found for Emily’s phone and then it was off back to the Inn. At a loose end we asked our tuk-tuk driver if it was possible to go and see the forts overlooking the city, so we could at least try and see some of the sights of Jaipur before we left.  Soon we’d arranged a little jaunt and at 4 we headed off up for the hills, getting a hell of a surprise on the way by going through the Pink City.

As a result of our trip through the Pink city we found ourselves on what is perhaps the weirdest tour of our travels, getting the locations of the bomb detonations through the city pointed out to us and a front row view of all the television cameras and vans scattered throughout the town. 4 o’clock curfew though apparently in India means nothing, there were still plenty people walking around. In a way it felt slightly morbid, although I seem to have written amongst my notes for the time “…but you do what you can to learn”. Interesting sentiment.

Having passed through the city we emerged to make our way up into the hills to the first fort overlooking the town, the Tiger fort. On the way we passed the magnificent artificial lake of Jal Mahal, a beautiful white palace situated in the middle of the lake appearing to float. According to our tuk-tuk driver only the Maharaja goes there and his guests, although I’m fairly sure I’ve seen information on it being turned into a hotel elsewhere (I have, it was Monty Don in around the World in 80 gardens.)

Our first proper fort was the Tiger Fort, or Nahagarh, which overlooked the centre of Jaipur standing proud atop the hill. We were unable to get inside the fort, however the outside did afford us a spectacular view and some cool cannons. We also came to our first Hindu shrine there (complete with the requisite shoe removal thing) and our first encounter with the Indian fascination of taking photos of us. Or us in the sense that I was there so that they didn’t feel too bad about getting a photo of Emily.

Further down the road, and actually a little way out of the town, was our second fort, The Amber Palace. Despite lacking the same views of the city that the Tiger fort had had, the fort itself was far more impressive. Occupying a ridge, you wind up to it through a series of little roads muddled amongst the extremities of the fort spilling down the hill. Around the bottom were a number of ornamental gardens, some obviously designed to appear as gardens when the rains came.

We wound our way up the hill, avoiding the building and repair works going on and trying to avoid the dust and debris flying around. India doesn’t have a health and safety Executive, and I doubt it has any kind of worker safety regulations, or if there are they consist of pray before starting. As a result there are no cordons around the rickety wooden scaffold, no safety gear on any of the workers and large lumps of chipped out stone falling to the ground where people are walking past.We also fell victim here to a scam we would find in other places too. Well I call it a scam, although really in this case it’s just people trying their luck. A group of women, admittedly quite brightly dressed women, persuaded us to take their photo and innocent us thought that this was just them wanting to have a photo taken and to see the picture. Alas no, taking the photo was quickly followed by demands for money. We managed to play ignorant tourist quite well under the circumstances and left a little wiser for future encounters.Once at the top we wandered the outer sections of the main fort for a while, taking in the architecture of the main outer courtyards, but alas the main palace was closed. Again we became the attraction for some Indians, this time hordes of familys all wanting pictures of us stood next t their children. Then our class of person went up the social hierarchy as we were interviewed by a Reuters guy about the effect of the bombings on tourism, seemed a nice guy at the time although when I eventually saw the article he’d written we were paraphrased to such an extent that our intents were completely miscommunicated.Alas that was it really for our tourism in Jaipur. We made our way back through the pink city again, the roads still heaving with traffic. Tomorrow we were off to Jodhpur where we’d get to start playing tourist properly.

Lookback 5: Shifting Hotels

Wednesday we started out by switching hotels, coming down to somewhere that was a little more in our price range. It was only when we arrived at the new hotel, the Jaipur Inn, that we found out that the shit had hit every proverbial fan that night in town. At a little after 7 on the Tuesday evening terrorists had set off seven bombs in the Pink city, the big central market place and hub of tourism in Jaipur. Which made it really rather a good thing that we hadn’t gone out into town the previous evening. Combining the blasts with the fact that there was a sandstorm hitting town that day meant that we were effectively confined to the hotel for the day.

Over the course of the day the information trickled in about the events the night before. We phoned home to ensure that everyone knew we were ok and kept an eye on the news to see how things were unfolding. A curfew was imposed for the whole of the pink city, supposedly with everyone off the streets by 4 for the next week. Totals for those effected trickled in over the day as well, 80 dead, 150 injured and a lot of businesses destroyed. The bombs had apparently been timed to hit during the peak hours of the market when people were out for the evening meals.

We tried to make the best of our time within the Jaipur Inn. We sorted out our travel plans, no longer going through Tibet or Nepal and instead flying to Hong Kong. We made this change from our original plans due to the “civil unrest” going on in Tibet. For that read violent clashes between government forces and protesters on the streets of Lhasa, which generally made it not an ideal place to travel through. We also met the first fellow backpacking people who turned out to both to be from just outside Southampton. We ate dinner with them and played a few card games, which helped to pass the time.

It’s interesting to note that one of the main topics of conversation throughout the day was as to which person was jinxed. In the end I think it came down to myself or Emily, especially with the earthquakes that had just happened in China as well as the clashes we were avoiding.

Lookback 4 – Getting the Train to Jaipur

I woke the next morning early, seeing the sunrise and watching the Indian countryside roll past in all its barren glory. The rains obviously hadn’t been in a long time, everywhere looking a sandy yellow colour. Occasionally we’d pass over the remains of dried river beds and gullies where water will flow in the monsoon season. Shouldn’t be too long till it hits again. Little farming villages, or maybe hamlets is a more appropriate word, are clustered around the track now and then.

Despite being obviously poor and very basic, I couldn’t help but think that this must be a better way to live than in the cities slums. If you have to be dirt poor, living a basic simple life in the country, while undeniably hard, I think will be the happier way to live. Dotted amongst the villages were little dome like hay stacks and mounds of collected cow dung, sometimes decorated with patterns of zigzags. Apparently the dung is kept for a combination of both fertiliser and fuel. When a cow is a source of fuel, dairy produce and potentially in some areas a work animal too is it any wonder that the Indians consider them sacred.

About halfway through the morning we were joined by a teenager called Vishal. His English is remarkably good, although I think he has a relatively rich family and expensive schooling. We talk of his studies at school and what we should see in Rajasthan, learn some Hindi from him and play Rummy. Surprisingly Vishal has little interest in travel,but when his little brother joins us for a while we find that he does, being obsessed with British football. I’ve made it to India and still the Premier League follows me.

Eventually we arrive in Jaipur, about an hour late. The approach became gradually hillier, the further we came. Dotting the hills in the distance we could see the first of Rajasthan’s magnificent forts standing proud on the hilltops and radiating the dominance the maharajahs.

We saw almost nothing of Jaipur that evening, getting in and then crashing out soon after in a very nice guest house/hotel. We were following a recommendation of Vishal’s, raising our budget slightly but still in need of lots of sleep and not really caring. The thought of going out to explore occurred, but in the end we just collapsed for what was left of the day in the air conditioned bliss. We found out the next day that it was a good thing we hadn’t gone out, but for now we stayed in in peace.

Lookback 3 – Leaving Mumbai

Monday morning and determined to beat the funk we were in we decided that we should get out of Mumbai and head elsewhere for a fresh start. If we knew the events that would soon transpire we really wouldn’t have picked Jaipur. Anyway, having got our tickets we made our way across town to the station and settled down to await our train. Again we had a taxi ride through Mumbai to do this, only this time it wasn’t just along the highway we were moving. It was through some of the narrower streets further from the centre, seeing what I guess is some of the more inner city parts of Mumbai’s immense slums. Again I am confronted by the rich poor contrast, the littered streets of shacks and rubbish broken now and then by the occasional expensive development.

Somehow when we got to the station we managed to be herded into the 1st class waiting room by a little blokey, although why I’m really not sure why. Maybe it looks good for them to have white people in there, or maybe he’s been told to give tourists preferential treatment by some higher authority. Maybe it’s just a mistake, I can never tell. Either way it was while there sat on the floor of the waiting room that I started to realise that I was starting to settle into the whole India thing, realising gradually that perhaps it was possible for me to deal with all these radically different surroundings.

Interestingly for a country that doesn’t eat beef, McDonalds appear to do quite well. It’s strange that even with the majority of their menu unavailable, being reduced to the fish burgers and the chicken burgers, they still have the ability to operate and do good business. Reluctantly I will admit that we ventured in and did eat there (as we would in many other McDonalds, KFCs etc.), the food being a known quantity like the stuff at home. It wasn’t great but it was reliable sustenance for my still unadapted body, still badly undernourished from those first few days of not eating properly.

We had a good spot on the train when we eventually boarded. As we hadn’t been getting much sleep we splurged a little and bought second class sleeper places, meaning that the beds are stacked only two high rather than three high and have privacy curtains between them and the corridor beyond. Coupled with this we had been allocated the end set of bunks, meaning that there was the two of us by ourselves. It was all a good thing really, as after having watched the city expanding slums and satellite towns roll past for hours we had the best nights sleep so far in India.

Lookback 2 – Exploration of Mumbai

Crossing the city centre we came to the opposite shore of the Mumbai peninsula, onto Chowpatty road. The coastal emergence gave a slightly refreshing breeze but with the sun still beating down it was still hot. Somehow though we managed to slog onwards, right round the hollow of the bay to Chowpatty beach, supposedly one of the sites to see of Mumbai. In fact its not really that nice a beach, and with the complete lack of any form of shelter near the water we stuck to the back doing what we should have one all along, sheltering under some trees. We soon had our first offer of drugs in Mumbai, with whispers of “Hashish? Poppy?” from the men who ambled past occasionally.

Sometime that evening we made it back out again, both having ended up with mild heat stroke from our earlier trip. Lack of food was also troubling us. All day I’d pretty much been without food, so considering the scant few mouthfuls I’d eaten the night before I should have been starving. Infact I was starving, I just didn’t know it because of the way I was reacting to the heat.

This time it was off down the peninsula a little to the Coloba area, famous for its sites of the India gate and the Taj Hotel. To be honest though my most overriding thought of that time is of the insane numbers of people crowding the paved shoreline next to the gate. Hundreds of people all living their lives right their in the open, buying, selling, eating, bartering. Fortunes made. Fortunes Lost. Fortunes told. In that one little space there was everything that makes it India and I couldn’t cope. It was overwhelming and the massive crowds made me uneasy.

We sourced food as we wove back towards the hotel, a little tourist place called the Leopold café teaming with tourists and serving western food.  That was pasta I direly needed, along with the cooked cheese and veg.  This is a where I really started to settle into the nature of being away.

Lookback part 01 – Mumbai

So for a first look back on the events I thought I’d start at the beginning, with some of my first forays into travel journals.  Mumbai was the first place I went to when I left to start my inaugural big trip.  It was the trip that really got me hooked on travelling and is as good a place as any to start this.

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Mumbai hadn’t originally been going to be a starting place, but due to some weird bureaucratic stuff Mumbai has an airport tax of about a hundred pounds less. Even taking into account the cost of a train up the country we were saving money.

So in swept our comfortable little BA plane with all the climate controls and out we rolled into the musty stench and heat of the broken air-conditioning system in Mumbai airport. Either that or the carpets had the worst perpetual damp problem possible and there never was any air-conditioning. This is India, either is possible although I wonder if the latter is true will there ever be somebody there to fix it.

Through the airport we battled, past guys indignantly wanting money to carry our bags and some crazy old gypsy lady and out to the taxis waiting outside. This was where the culture shock hit. Until you go somewhere that isn’t western, nothing can mentally prepare you for the sensory influx of differences. Before getting here I wasn’t badly travelled, but my travel was limited to the US and Europe. I’d seen a diverse range of landscapes, some very dramatic and soul changing. Throughout the entire western world there’s a certain similarity to just about any populated area. Here though, in Mumbai, everything is different. It’s a clichéd phrase to use, but it is literally a different world.

As our taxi wove through the traffic, taking us deep into down town Mumbai I remember thinking the roads were much better than I’d expected them to be. Tales of chaos and complete disorder had made me almost fearful of that initial ride, but then it didn’t seem so bad. Quickly though this was followed by the realisation that there cyclists weaving through this mess and that I would really hate to be one of them. The streets we passed through gradually changed from poorer to richer, but always with the evidence of each prominently displayed. Empty concrete shells and shacks housed people, street level section used as store fronts for the residents to ply their trade. Meanwhile huge tower blocks plastered with mobile phone adverts stood tall over all the surroundings. Everything was in contrast, rich and poor, old and new.

I almost didn’t cope with it all in those initial moments. That evening I came very close to just flying home, packing it all up I did none of things I should have done with that time. I watched TV and moped just about, settling on the channels least removed from home and filled with the familiar American movies available everywhere. I’m really glad I eventually got out of that frame of mind.

Morning comes, accompanied by the sound of the air conditioning rumbling away. It sounded a little like a busted dalek slowly dying, but the cooling effect was still needed. A late start and we were out into the city, initially with the intention of getting train tickets although somewhere along the line we continued to act with the same sense we’d been acting on so far. Somehow we got distracted from all the task at hand and ended up setting off to walk the city, in the middle of the day in the baking sun.