An Exercise in Irrelevance

The Aussies were made; the bus is squalid. There are seats and bunks. The posh option is a upper bunk over the seats, with sliding windows on both sides. The opposite side is a single bunk which is open. The seats are if you are really poor. The temperature inside the bus is rising from hot to, well, hotter. I have no idea what this must be like when we are not in the middle of a cold spell.

Turns out the seats are not if you are really poor; this is standing up. The bus is now heaving full of people on two different levels. Combined with the general madness that I’ve seen on the road, I would be nervous if there was anything at all I could do about it. People don’t moan about health and safety in India; there isn’t any to moan about.

Oh and it’s not non-smoking. The group of Americans opposite us are really not happy people.

Here we go…

This morning, went to the Jain temples I missed yesterday. There are five, as it happens, interlocking, interconnected, criss-crossing the streets. They’re very good, closeted and enclosed after the airy, openness of Ranakpur.

This afternoon a camel “safari” — on the way, we stopped off at a Mausoleum and then another Jain temple which we didn’t actually go in. The safari was a camel ride for two hours to some dunes, where we had fresh-cooked pakora, biscuits and a snack which tasted like a cross between poppadoms and monster munch. It was really fun in a donkey ride kind of sense. The town is the middle of a cold snap which made the desert pleasant.

We’re still on the waiting list for the train. We have a backup plan now involving a bus; apparently, without the tickets, we can’t travel anyway. I’d rather take the train, although some other Aussies (they get everywhere!) said the bus isn’t too bad.

The town of Jaisalmer is nice, with lots of great, intricate architecture; the lattice work is everywhere. The rest of the fort is actually a bazaar — to some extent, once you have seen one, you have seen them all. There are some Jain temples, though, which are impressive from the outside, although shut by the time we got there.

We eat food in the unpromising named “Shanti” restaurant, drawn in by the far more promising odour. It’s combination Nepali and India food, on the edge of the fort, with a view out over the desert. Best food so far by a long, long way.

Overnight from Jodphur was actually okay — the train was a bit of a tight fit, but fine. We arrived at the hotel just before 6am and kipped on the roof till breakfast. We are staying in the shadow of the fort. We should get a room and see what the day holds.

Still no reservations but apparently if they don’t come through, we can still travel, but with no sleep; better than nothing.

From the distance, an incredible noise shakes the town; it turns out to be a military jet.

Today, visited the Mehrangarh fort in Jodphur. It’s a wonderful place, excellent restored and with quality audio guide and signs. Apparently, when they started to restore it in 1972 one source of income was from selling the bat guano that have accumulated, which is an unusual start to a museum. Finished off the tour with an excellent veggie thali that went down very well.

Then moved onto a lightening tour of the outside of the palace — the tuk-tuk man expected to clean up on the return journey, but we already knew it would be shut by the time we got there. It was good, though, from the outside, and lovely at sunset. The tuk-tuk man on the way back tried to take us for 150 rupees back to the hotel; in the end we settled on 60 to the clock tower (5 minutes away).

Now in the train station waiting for a sleeper to Jaisalmer — I’m slightly nervous as we are travelling sleeper rather than AC2 — which is the first class — as there were no tickets. An aussie at the hotel mentioned that his sister lost her bags in the sleeper after someone gassed the entire carriage. The train station is not good; there are people everywhere, spread across the floor, sleeping on the stone while waiting. We’ve gone for the AC2 lounge (which technically we shouldn’t, I guess), which has seats at least.

We still don’t have reservations from Jaisalmer — we’re front of the reservations list, waiting for a drop out — apparently, we have a good chance, but I don’t want a good chance, I want tickets.

Food last night filled a whole but was otherwise disappointing.

This morning, I awoke to a cacophony; constant chanting from a nearby Hindu temple competing at sun break with the Muezzins’ call to prayer, as well as the ever present horn blowing and engine noise.

We are on the rooftop in a ramshackle building under a large crag with a fort on top. The crag is peppered with basking monkeys and topped by circling birds. The air is cool, clear and sweet smelling. I expect all of this will change.

Today started with a hairy car journey to the Ranakpur Jain temple. I know very little about the Jain religion except for extreme veggie tendencies. One thing is clear, though — they make very impressive temples. It was a place of singing and joy. As with as the religious and tourists, there were a bunch of school children from Bali — they were expect at posing, 10 of them could form up in an instant and they delighted in having their picture taken.

Bali turned out to be a village 30km away as we found out on the journey; it was bumpy, unpleasant and, erm, thrilling. The horn beeping was constant until night fell, then we drove with dipped lights until the a car or lorry approached in the opposite direction, when full beams were used. Indicators were constantly deployed, also, but I have no ideal with what meaning. We saw two crashes. One was between two lorries, side-on, and the other a lorry that had been rear-ended by a tuk-tuk. There’s no way that everyone walked away from these. A sorry sight.

No real idea about Jodphur until we got out — the last leg of the journey was by tuk-tuk as the guest house in inaccessible by car because of the narrow streets. It’s a dramatic place and seems to be clean. Food is to come.

A day late, but got here eventually. It’s much warmer than Delhi. The hotel is good enough and a blessed relief after last nights mouse pit.

Udaipur is a city on the lake; Octopussy was filmed here, but you can’t blame the setting for the rubbish movie; it’s striking and beautiful here with two buildings in the lake itself — a hotel and a temple.

We see a native dance show — the Goan dance was rather camp, with one guy in a dress riding on the back of another, while a third pranced around stage. The others were graceful rather than athletic, with the dancers in magnificent colours. Afterwards, we found a slightly dodgy rooftop restaurant; the place was a bit of a dump, but the food was excellent.

Sadly, we have less than 24 hours here.

Got fogged off and missed our connection. Now stuck in Delhi. The airport was chaos. It took us over 2 hours before we got a new ticket, and then a hotel transfer. The hotel is, well, a genuine cultural experience. Hot water — at least if you turn the boiler on first. The room not too clean with a strange smell. And no heating, which is unfortunate in the middle of winter.

Food was good though — we all went veggie — everyone else to be on the safe side. Took me a while to convince them that the chick peas would make up for the lack of protein. I didn’t point out the mouse running free by then, as it wouldn’t have helped. Explains the strange smell.

I’m hoping that my DEET is effective against insects other than mosquitos.

The flight from Dhaka is belayed due to the weather; while the ever-present smog has saved my a fortune in suntan cream, now it’s not nearly so good.

We managed to avoid the madness of airport security by means of the VIP lounge; the name of our gracious host proved less effective on the way out than on the way in, but they seemed to accept the magic incantation of an EU passport. Inside the airport secure zone, it’s calm and relaxed; I don’t discount the possibility that this due to the absence of planes. Wandering around a photo of the Pink Palace from yesterday blares out at me, lurid in it’s impossibly pink false colour. It makes me want to see it, even though I know that the reality is more muted.

It’s been a strange experience. This is a country of extremes and contradictions, which sums up how I feel about it. I got to see Old Dhaka and the river; but was this out of a genuine desire to see how others’ life is lived or is it an unpleasant voyeurism for those less well off; I feel compassion for the beggars, with an abiding wish that they would just go away.