Hight St, Jaipur
A relatively late start at 8.30am (!) as we set off for the hill fortress and city of Amber, visible on the mountains looming over the city. This meant taking on Jaipur’s morning rush hour… Total, utter pandemonium – I haven’t the words to describe the chaos. S, now feeling a little more at ease with India, was both fascinated and appalled (the previous afternoon, I think her eyes had been mainly shut!) by what was happening around us.
The ancient city was a planned city, built on a grid system within the walls. It was mostly originally of pink stand-stone anyway but apparently the local Maharajah insisted that the whole ancient city be painted in pink in honour of a British royal visitor – and now it’s a planning requirement!
First stop was the ‘palace of the winds’ which has a stunningly ornate facade looking out onto possibly the busiest road in the city. Our cab just sort of pulled into the kerb (regardless of anyone else) and we hopped out into the mayhem. “You can get better photos from the other side of he street” advised our guide, and calmly wandered off into the swirl of vehicles. “What??” shrieked S, “He’s out of his mind if he thinks I’m crossing that”. I watched as he managed to stop an oncoming bus by putting his hand on it. “Just walk, don’t look” I said, somewhat doubtfully, as a motorbike narrowly missed my toes. To be honest, I don’t know how we got across. I’m even less sure how we got back. “Well, that was interesting!” said I breathlessly, clambering back into the cab. I was met with silence and blank stares – I’d clambered back into the wrong cab!
The driver, the guide and S were all further down the road, with expressions that suggested a period of silence might be in order.
Eventually, we arrived at the foot of the hills below the city. It was possible to take the ride up on an elephant but the guide advised against it and it really didn’t look like the elephants natural habitat. So we sat in a traffic jam for about 20 mins, as cars jostled with cows on the tiny road up through the old city. I asked if the cows should actually be out amongst the traffic? In theory, not at all, In fact there was such a thing as a ‘cow pound’ where wandering cows could be taken by the police and the owner fined when he went to get them back. However, the practical issues of trying to arrest a cow were self-evident and the owners were happy to let them wander around feeding where they could and making their way home at night; a bit like we do with cats!
The hilltop palace, when we finally got there, was spectacular, as were the views (the skies being much clearer than Delhi). The whole complex was surrounded by 15 miles of walls around the mountain which are now on my list as a potential boys walking trip!
There then followed a battle of wills! Next stop was a ‘craft cooperative’ to show us how carpets and block-printed linens were made. Schoolboy error…
The making of both was truly fascinating (S had a go at putting some knots into a carpet) but all too quickly, we were ushered through to the showroom and a massive one-to-one sales pitch on rugs, complete with free offers of rum! “I’m afraid we’ll never get those iin the hand luggage” I said, somewhat smugly. Like they’d never heard that before!
“No problem – we do UPS, Insurance, specific date delivery to your home” etc, etc.
In the end we walked out – into a similar situation with the fabrics and linens.
We then moved on to the Royal Palace and Observatory – which was brilliant, with massive sundials that could tell the time to within two seconds, all built four hundred years ago. The rest of the museums were equally fascinating but our guide was eager that we didn’t miss out on the ‘Jewellery craft workshops’!
We were now wise to this routine and the fact that the guide was possibly on ‘commission’ but while resisting carpets was one thing, I was far less confident in S’s ability to resist jewellery. Especially expensive high quality jewellery.
In the end, we made it out wallet intact, but it was a close run thing!
We retreated back through the traffic mania to the sanctuary of the hotel and dinner. Later, In the restaurant, we carefully worked through the menu for what sounded like the least fiery option.
There, we learned that the one phrase you never want to hear from an Indian waiter is;
“My goodness sir, you certainly like your spices!”