A Night ( not a knight) in a castle

Next stop: a night at a heritage hotel in a Rajistan  village.  Ghanerao Royal Castle has seen better days.  In need of a coat of paint, real estate agents might call it a renovators delight but you can still see remnants of what it used to be and in its heyday must have been truly magnificent. Every room was different. Some had murals on the wall and all had big old furniture.

The rooftop terrace was like an open garret with cushions to sit on. how the maharajahs must have lived.

On the way to the castle we stopped at the village of Ranakpur, home to one of India's most impressive Jain temples.  It had hundreds of columns.  Jains have something in common with Sikhs in that they will feed all comers.  The thing is though that it's considered very bad form not to eat everything you are given so you have to judge when you've had enough and refuse any extra servings.

Upon arrival at the castle we had a walk through the village where we were mobbed by kids wanting us to take their photos, they also clamoured asking for pencils which appears to be a standard form of payment for photos. They were eventually shooed away by some local grown ups but not before a local trader profited greatly from us buying boxes of pencils for the kids.

In the evening we had another cooking demonstration.  And one of the few meat dishes we encountered to date.

Dinner was in the dining hall where we were informed the maharajah used to eat.

Jodhpur

Another 6 hour drive to Jodhpur and Ravi thoughtfully bought some deep fried post-brekky Snacky things: kachoris and jalebis. Not great when you feel like death warmed up.  Even the smell made me feel ill. Only two people ate them. Dan and Bern of the cast iron stomachs, and Ravi of course.

Jodhpur is known as the Blue city because some of the houses in the Old City are painted Blue. It's a mixture of lime and indigo and is said to repel insects.  An audio tour of the mehrangarh Fort followed.  Afraid to say I didn't follow the tour of the 30 something stops.  Just skipped to the end and wished for death.  

Mick was very happy there as he said it contained a lot of sharp  pointy things. I'll take his word for it.

Our accommodation was lovely. The Polo Heritage recalls the days of the British Raj. Walls decorated with polo trophies and teams of days gone by.  Theresa and I dibbed out of the Old Town market walk. She was coming down with a sore throat and my digestive woes continued.  I'm told the market was good and Mick retuned bearing packets of spice mixes, crowing about the lhassi and food. I noddded weakly and probably turned green.  The tuk tuk ride back was a hair raiser. It's one thing to experience traffic from a bus, even a small one. Another entirely to have a truck bearing down on you in a little tuk tuk.

Dinner for me was tea and toast.  Late start next day, but a little revived I managed an early morning swim.

Jaipur

Off now to Jaipur. Home for the next 2 nights. Long 7 hour bus ride. We stopped on the way at the deserted city of Fatehpur Sikri.

One thing about long day trips you get to know your fellow travellers and see the teeming life of India along the way.

Free afternoon. A walk through a food market. The colours of spices are so much more vivid here. I guess it's because they get them so fresh.

Evening was at "uncle Sam's". Home of a self proclaimed celebrity chef (we'd never heard of him and wondered if he was so famous why he lived in such a modest apartment)

Still the food was delicious so we're not complaining.

On the drive to the amber fort we stopped at looked at the Palace of the Winds. It's lovely but it's just a facade. Makes you wonder why.

Amber Fort next stop. Bit of a climb had us wishing we could make the journey up the hill on elephants, but we were told there was a 45 minute wait. Oh well, the walk did us good.

Lots of touts and hawkers. One little scene saw us witness police come tramping in armed with rattans, shields and helmets to remove them. One lad saw them coming, deftly tucked his postcards under his shirt, turned on his heel and marched briskly out. We thought it was overkill. And one of the Muslin caretakers wasn't impressed either. He raced out,waving his arms about and loudly gave them what for. They then rather sheepishly went back out the gate and removed their boots and re-entered. Somehow they didn't quite have the same authority in their socks.

Moustaches are a bit of a thing in Rajistan and we saw some impressive ones. One old boy Saw Mick's face fungus, nodded approvingly and shook his hand!

After lunch a visit to a place selling jewellery. I refrained . Bern wasn't so strong. Then a textile place. Bern and I had a go at block printing. The professionals have nothing to fear from us.

Spent more,than I'd intended as there were some stunning things there. They offered drinks including rum and coke. We thought they were kidding but not so. Bern got a bit excited over that. There is a photo somewhere called women shopping and it show Mick, Eric and Adam sitting in a row with rums in hand looking rather bored. At least they had the rum to console them and their credit cards.

A Bollywood movie was next. The Raj Mandia cinema has a capacity of 1200 and is rather lavishly decorated in a sort Art Deco revival style. The movie was A comedy. Just enough English words scattered in to give us the gist.

Some of us left at interval in Favour of food. A few dodgy tummies by this stage. I blame the stuffed chilli. I'm not sure,the choice of Dominos was a good idea though.

Agra and worlds most famous building

5am start to the day. What is there to say about them?  Can live without them. On board the train to Agra at 6. Breakfast on the train. We were treated to a new delicacy. Spiced buttermilk. What does it taste like I hear you cry.  Well think of skim milk on the turn flavoured with curry powder.  One of the few things we've had so far that we haven't  liked. (Except for Bernadette but she's from Adelaide!) Resentments have started in the group because those sitting at other end of compartment got Rose lhassi which is my favourite.

Upon arrival we had a visit to the red fort. It is a very impressive construction. Those Moghuls sure knew how to build. The red fort was our first introduction the possibly the most famous and photographed building in the world: The Taj Mahal. We could see it from the fort.

A visit to a carpet place showcased the colours of India. How we wanted to buy one but budget, lack of anywhere suitable and the thought of carting it around for 3 weeks prevailed.

Lunch was tasty as ever. "Snacky lunch," Ravi called it. The phrase has stuck and entered our lexicon as have a few other of his sayings.

Whatever you've heard and read about the Taj Mahal, it is all that and more.it is truly magnificent. I won't even try to describe it. Nothing I can say would do it justice. One thing though, if you visit and decided to go into the tomb for whom the Taj Mahal was built, your time would be better spent elsewhere. The lines are long,even for "high value" visitors. This is basically anyone who Isn't Indian. You pay a much higher entrance fee. Once inside the bottleneck of the door all you can do 

is shuffle around the dimly lit tomb which echoes and amplifies sound accompanied by the sound 

of whistles which are used by security. Someone wanders where they shouldn't or attempts to take a video when you haven't paid the extra fee, they use the whistle. With the numbers of 

people there it can get very noisy.

Sunset at the Taj is wonderful. Followed by a cooking demonstration at a restaurant. Complete with very noisy Japanese tourists who made it difficult to hear the cook

Today was Golden Temple day. We saw it last night lit up and today in the sunshine. While the temple perhaps isn't as spectacular during the day, the colours are. Sikh men wear the most vividly coloured turbans and are very handsome. Especially the young men. Clear skin, beards and the most beautiful liquid brown eyes and the women wear gorgeous colours. Loose fitting tops and comfortable long pants. Eminently sensible in hot weather. It made me wonder why on earth Australian women are inflicted with clinging short tops and fitted garments in the summer.

We also saw behind the scenes. The philosophy at the Golden Temple is one of service. They will feed anyone and everyone for free without discrimination. This is done by volunteers. Our guide, Shiv told us on an average day they serve 50,000 meals; more on weekends and holidays. You can imagine the industrial scale needed to achieve this. We saw a chapatti making machine. The dough fed into a vat which somehow breaks them into chunks ( think scones) Then along a conveyer belt through a series of rollers which result in the end product, a flat round cooked chapatti. They also make them by hand on fire heated griddles. We were given a turn in cooking some. Well sort of. Didn't actually get to see one through from go to whoa. We saw huge cauldrons of vegetable curry, dhal and one cauldron of chai. They are served on metal plates and the clatter of these plates when being handled in such quantities is staggering. I've been to quieter rock concerts.

Before that though there was a visit to the monument at Jallianwala Bagh. You see the word Bagh a lot in place names. It means garden which in many cases is historical and/or is merely a patch of open unused land. This commemorates the scene of an infamous massacre in 1919 when many unarmed men. Women and children died after Brig. Gen. Reginald Dyer ordered his troops to open fire and shoot to kill. Depending on which account you read between 300 and 1500 lost their lives that day. In some places you can still see the bullet holes in the buildings. There is more to the story which is a fascinating one but I don't have time to recount it here. It is worth looking up though.

One other thing. We are often stopped by total strangers and asked if they can take photos with us. Our guide informed us that while westerners do visit it's not in numbers so great that we aren't a source of interest for some. There seems to be no particular group who does this. Young, old, male female, it makes no difference. The strangest one was an older lady with few teeth accompanied by some younger women and a couple of kids. We duly lined up with them. "No'" Said the guide they don't have a camera they just want you to take a photo." He shrugged as puzzled as we were by this. He duly took the photo and we showed it to them and they trooped off happy!

I think I love these puzzling little occurrences as much as the colour and sights of India.

It was back to the hotel for a couple of hours before heading off to Wagah which is the border with Pakistan. Every night they have the oddest border closing ceremony. The crowd is exuberant and noisy, hundreds and hundreds of them. Singing, chanting and dancing. Then formalities begin. Much posturing. Think the minister for silly walks run rampant on a military parade. Funniest thing I've seen in a long time, these impeccably turned out men and women, all chosen for their height it appears goose stepping and stamping all over the place.  

There is also a man in a dazzling white track suit and black cowboy hat who seemed to be emcee/cheerleader and microphone holder for the soldier whose job it was to stand stiffly to attention and emit a long loud noise at intervals. The best description of this comes from Mick who reckons he sounded like someone had his nuts in a squirrel grip. He seems to have been chosen for this role by the length of time he can sustain this noise without taking a breath, which alas wasn't as impressive as his counterpart on the other side of the border. This mutual serenade was synchronised. Almost like I can hold my breath longer than you contest.

Upon our return we decided it was time to eat. Now we'd been to the main restaurant the night before and we didn't fancy a big meal so headed to the rooftop bar and swimming pool. This pool appears to never be used but it doesn't prevent it bring the source of full time employment for several souls.  

We took our seats and a rather scared looking young man diffidently approached us with a menu. This made a change because we had the distinct impression that when guests do turn up to avail themselves of these facilities the 3 or 4 guys employed to take care of them seem to be at a loss what to do. The diffident young man took our drinks orders and sloped off only to return shortly after with older man with little English who informed us that we couldn't have drinks or anything else. Something about dancing was mentioned but as the only other patrons in the place were two 40 something turbaned Sikhs we couldn't for the life of us work out who was going to take part in this bacchanalian orgy of dancing.

So down to the dimly out "sports bar". When I say dimly I'm not exaggerating this windowless hidey hole is so dimly lit that one has to peer very closely at the menu. Another slightly disconcerting aspect of this venue is that the scatter cousins all have faces of what we presume to be sports people which was the cause of some amused speculation as to whose face each of us was sitting on.

The joint was really jumpin last night all of 6 of us at one time. The lone bloke on the bar stool. The two bespectacled middle aged men sporting large 70/s pimp spectacles ( or if you prefer spects and goggles as one shop sign calls it.). This put the staff to customer ratio at about 1:1)

Drinks came with the ubiquitous peanuts and yummy chilli pappadams. We have discovered that if we take our time with drinks and chow down on the nibbles they will be replaced. In our case last night we devoured 3 plates of yummy pappadams before taking Pity on the ever hovering staff member and ordering food. Sometimes it's fun to order something when you have no idea what it really is ("quotient of spiced chicken" in Paris springs to mind). In our case crispy dragon chicken sounded too exotic to pass up. Alas as is often the case the reality didn't live up to the fantasy. it was basically crumbed and deep fried chicken strips and the delightfully red looking sauce was tomato. Never mind it was tasty enough. As were the marinated veggies cooked in tandoor oven.

Today we return to New Delhi We have the morning free before returning on the Shatbadi Experess. The thing is our hotel is in what is basically a business area on a busy road which we were advised by our guide not to attempt to cross. Perhaps we will avail ourselves of the travel desk. Mind you if the English of that person is the same as the guy manning the icecream counter in the hotel foyer then we're in trouble. I was intrigued by the "swiss exotics" flavour and pointed to it. "What flavour is that?" I enquired.

"Icecream." He replied helpfully.

" yes, but what flavour?

"Icecream." Clearly proud of his achievement at bring able answer a question in English.

I smiled faintly and thanked him. I know when I'm beaten.