Month: February 2019

India has been interesting, fun, awe-inspiring, frustrating, fascinating, disappointing and wonderful.

Its varied and colourful history has made it a wonderful place to explore, with its forts, tombs and palaces telling its story. And its natural beauty is incredible. My top three highlights were:

Taj Mahal: this one’s no surprise, I guess. I was ready for its physical beauty, which I’ve seen in many pictures. But photos can’t possibly capture the feel of the stone and the sheer awe seeing that much marble inspires That it was built out of love and grief makes it all the more emotional.

Leopards in the wild: seeing these majestic creatures in their natural habitat was breath-taking. Six hours of safari for about 7 minutes in their presence was well worth it. The tiger was great, too, but the elusiveness of leopards made two sightings in one outing very special indeed.

Waterbird Sanctuary: in contrast to the leopards, waterbirds were everywhere you looked. Fifty-five species in a single day demonstrates the density of wildlife – turn your head and another four species came into view. It’s less well-known, but was well worth the stop.

And my bottom three lowlights:

Extreme patriarchy: this one’s no surprise, either! Explicit and implicit sexism was insuting, frustrating and, quite, frankly, disappointing. From men p*ssing in the street to women sent to their deaths on someone else’s funeral pyre, the disregard and disrepect for women throughout the centuries and in contemporary life was disgusting to behold.

Money, money, money: Western tourists will encounter this in any situation where there is considerable economic disparity, but here it was compounded by rudeness (“is that all?” in response to a generous tip) and the extent of scams; for instance, the multi-agent attempts to con newly-arrived tourists into paying for an expensive hotel was shocking. I do understand that it must be very difficult seeing others who are relatively very wealthy. But it’s not the whole picture. And ethics still apply, whether someone’s loaded or not.

Extreme patriarchy: it made me so angry, it takes third position, too (pushing down the dirt and filth to fourth place). Nuff said.

But it was definitely worth dealing with the lowlights to enable me to experience the highlights. Glad I experienced India and, by graciously accepting all those selfie requests, I’m hoping that I managed to leave it in a slightly happier state than when I found it…

… although why someone wants a photo of me is still something that I just can’t get my head around! But to finish, please find below every selfie request picture that I took from Day 3 onwards – enjoy, and be baffled!

 

Chow mein might not spring to mind as the ideal breakfast, but it’s good – nice balance of carb, protein, veg and a healthy dose of spice.

On the walk to the metro, we were overtaken by a cart pulled by a zebu… wearing a turban.

And spot the (deliberate) mistake in this picture:

At Delhi airport, we faced an interesting situation. E-tickets were temporarily unavailable when I checked in online and we were told to go to the check-in desk. Except they wouldn’t let us into the terminal building without a ticket. But we needed to get into the terminal building to pick up our ticket. It took over 30 mins, and a considerable amount of frustration, to get inside the building.

Hats off to Virgin, though – when I made a comment about our minor ordeal, a manager came over and offered us a free upgrade. To “Economy Delight” (which, I have to say, was worth it with more legroom and first food service).

Bohemian Rhapsody was on the in-flight entertainment. Had wanted to see it, so saved me the price of a cinema ticket, too 🙂

Drinking water

Public water fountains were a pretty regular sight. Not safe for my “baby stomach”, but a step-up from London.

Train station tannoy

Announcements at the train station were fun to listen to. For instance, every train update was preceded by a dramatic “ta-da” on an electric keyboard. And music (clearly based on “the holly and the ivy”) was repeated – maybe it was the station’s anthem.

“Why did you leave your children?”

I got into conversation with a saree-wearing lady on the train (which is not difficult because they pretty much all wear sarees and are very willing to chat). People around us kindly translated. After finding out we were from England, she asked “Why did you leave your children at home?”. When I explained the situation, she just couldn’t seem to understand that I hadn’t left them at home – as I didn’t have any. Paradigm shift for her.

Marriage age disparity

Women are sold off young, to older men. The age difference is noticeable.

Money, money, money

“Pound? Can I see a pound?” asked the old gentleman as we walked up the hill to the fort. “I’ve never seen a pound.” This was a new one. But we were in India, so didn’t have any.

Male domination

Reading up on the mosque, the guide book mentioned that visitors can climb one of the towers for a view of the city. Great. It also mentioned a sign at the entrance which reads “Unaccompanied women are not permitted”. Good gracious – why not? This is “Not Great”.

Male domination is getting boring.

Lunch

We’ve eaten lunch on five days out of the 21 we’ve been travelling. Stomach shut down after the first bout of Delhi Belly, and hasn’t properly recovered since. Interestingly, I’m quite happy eating just two meals a day (and neither are much more than I’d usually consume). Hoping it’ll last once I get back to England as it’s a very easy way to keep my weight under control.

LGBTQ+ / gender fluidity

Being non-heterosexual or non-binary must be quite difficult here as the culture is very rigid. I’ve been pleasantly surprised to see outwardly gay couples – nothing in-your-face (which is not in keeping with their culture, whatever your sexual orientation) – but two men holding hands, at the stepwell, for instance. And the group of transgender people in Pushkar (for the record, they were a hoot!).

Hot water

Every place we’ve stayed has had a different approach to hot water. I assume that this is because the average Indian doesn’t have the luxury so it’s something that tourists have driven. At one place, we needed to put the immersion heater on 20 minutes before a shower, and it had an automatic switch off. At our last place, we had to actually call down to reception 10 minutes before we wanted hot water. With 94 rooms, this clearly wasn’t a scalable model.

Insect bites

Grand total = 2.

I can, therefore, confirm that there are only 2 biting insects in Rajasthan (remembering that usually only the females bite).

Floor washing

Soap seems to be non-existent when washing floors. Our last hotel’s floor was filthy – I could feel the dirt under my feet. A lad arrived with a dirty cloth dipped in dirty water, and proceeded to move the dirt around a bit. Nowhere have I seem them use soap – which is odd because it’s used when washing clothes, and themselves. Eventually, I scrubbed the floor with a used, wet towel. One side was very black by the time I’d finished, but I hoped that it gently suggested that their floor washing could do with a re-think.

T-shirt slogans

This week’s collection includes one perplexing:

And one offensive (why do people even feel the need to wear these?): B*tch don’t kill by vibe.

Mughal history has dominated the scene so far – they pretty much ran India from C16 until the Brits came along in the form of the East India Company. Today we were introduced to the Ashok and Gupta periods. So it was a whole nother period to get my head round. It timed out.

So we just wandered around the very pleasant Qutab Minar complex taking in the history and atmosphere. The highlights were:

Qutab Minar dominates the skyline – a 73-metre high tower built by Qutab ud Din Aibak, first ruler of the Delhi Sultanate, to celebrate the victory of the Muslims.

It tapers from 15m diameter at its base to just 2.5m at the top and is distinctive by its bands of Qu’ran script:

… and it’s curved/pointed surfaces which made it look rather like a very tall sandcastle. Or jelly. I’m not sure either was quite the effect he was going for.

Imam Zamin’s tomb was built 944 AH. “AH” stands for Anno Hegirae which is Latin for “in the year of the Hijra”. The “Hijra” is Muhammad’s migration in 622 CE (Common Era) from Mecca to Yathrib (now Medina) to establish the first Muslim community.

Imam Zamin died a year after construction was completed, which was very efficient. Whilst it was built in the Mughal era, it’s in Lodhi style (in this case, a square footprint):

Ala’i Darawaza mosque featured Selguqian characteristics of pointed horseshoe-shaped arches, squinches and lotus bud fringes on the arches. Apart from being a fantastic word, a squinch is “a straight or arched structure across an interior angle of a square tower to carry a superstructure such as a dome”. So now you know 🙂

Iron Pillar was next up. Scientists are still at a loss to explain how this was built within the technological capabilities of the time, and it would have been even more impressive when it was all shiny and new:

The courtyard’s “cloisters” were also good (including the mousehole):

Finally, Alai Minar was conceived to be twice the height of Qutab Minar by Alauddin Khalfi (1296 – 1316), but he died when it had only reached the first storey. Epic fail.

Wandering round the complex (summed up as: “my willy is bigger than your willy”) was an enjoyable way to spend my last full day in India. Gandhi’s Smriti and Lodhi gardens had also been on the agenda, but enough was enough. Brain overload.

Our journey on the metro to the Qutab Minar is also worthy of note. First off, the various ways in which you can say “please be nice” – much more inventive than those found on the Underground:

• Please offer this seat to someone who needs it more than you do
• For Ladies
• For old or physically challenged
• Please offer your seat to physically challenged, senior citizens and ladies

For the record, women want equality, not preferential treatment. And this includes men not staring at us. Well, me. I can’t speak for the other women. The suggestively-raised eyebrows don’t go down well either – it’s not flattering, it’s disrespectful and it makes me feel uncomfortable. Please cease and desist.

Some translations that made me smile (remembering, of course, that their English is astromonically better than my Hindi):

• “Deboard” – it’s not a word, but you already know what it means
• “Use footover bridge” – ditto 🙂

Other random stuff from today:

Falcons (?) circling their tourist prey:

Fence painting with a rag:

Foreigners might pay more, but at least you can skip the queues:

And – the bit you’ve all been waiting for – today’s selfie stash (note the old geezer – first one for a while).

It’s become a bit of friendly competition between my companion and I to see who gets the most requests. Despite his extreme introvert tendencies, he said today: “I’m annoyed I didn’t get those three in the mosque now”. Extreme introvert, but even more extreme competitor 🙂

But I won. For the record.

Not that I’m competitive at all.

Jama Masjid is India’s biggest mosque. It’s pretty unremarkable from the outside, crammed on four sides by traffic-jammed streets and stalls seemingly unaware of the rather larger building in their midst, but once you climb the steps you’re presented with its facade, which is impressive.

It was Shah Jahan’s “final architectural triumph”. But as someone who needs their shoes, I’m not welcome. So I sat outside under the watchful gaze of various men. *sigh*

On a happier note, the Feroz Shah Kotla was well worth a visit. Set in relaxed, shady gardens, there’s a 13m-high Hawa Mahal topped by a column that was shipped from Topra Kalan in Northern India.On the obelisk are inscriptions attributed to the Mauryan King Ashok. He reigned from c.  268 to 232 BC and there is some debate over whether he inspired the Buddha (exact dates unknown) or vice versa.

Or perhaps it was a bit of both – like an ancient rap battle.

It was also the site of plenty of selfie requests. Two women approached to ask, and we ended up with another family photo shoot comprising (almost) every possible combination (including the kid). I figured if I’m going to do it, I might as well do it with good grace.

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Isa Khan’s tomb was built 20 years before Humayun’s. Which, in turn, predates the Taj Mahal by about 60 years.

And it’s clearly the Taj’s inspiration which is, in fact, a concatenation of Jahangir’s and Humayun’s tombs (see the images below – the Taj is in the bottom right):

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In 1533, Emperor Humayun (1508 to 1556) ordered the construction of the city he called Dinpanah (“the refuge of the faithful”). Emperor Humayun was first Mughal emperor and the father of Akbar. He died falling down the steps of his library. Or from the roof after taking opium and going up to look at the stars, if you believe a guide I overheard later (although this might be a special tourist interpretation of events as falling down the stairs is not very rock n’ roll).

Humanyun’s tomb is 50 metres tall and built on a 4,000 sqm platform. It took just 8 years to build and over 160 members of the royal family are now buried in the lower cells.

It’s surrounded by symmetrical gardens. Interesting (unproven) fact: the term for a walled garden in Faris is “pairi daeza” which is where the English word “paradise” comes from.

On Thursdays, special prayers are made at the mosque – we walked out against the tide of Indians coming to visit the mosque.

 

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Qwaali is sufi devotional music. It’s my favourite genre of music to watch – you can listen to all the CDs you like, but I came nowhere near understanding it until I saw it. Unfortunately, it’s rarely played in the UK, so I took the opportunity to hear some at Hazrat Nizam-ud-din-Dargah (round the corner from Humayan’s tomb) – apparently, it’s performed every Thursday evening.

It wasn’t qwaali, but something intense was definitely going on – a procession where a group of men holding a folded up flag, held horizontally, exited the temple and danced frantically to loud drums. Once satisfied, they’d move on and the next group would emerge. I had no idea what was going on, but it looked and sounded pretty incredible:

A very informative and enjoyable day.

An argument had broken out between the tuk-tuk drivers. We’d approached the first in the queue who’d quoted 250R to the airport when another stopped and undercut him by 50R. But this wasn’t how things were done, and a third tuk-tuk driver got in on the act and started aggressively shouting out the interloper.

“We have a numbering system,” another explained.

“We don’t care about your numbering system,” we said (not for the first time), “we just want a decent price.” Their numbering system is really not in our best interests.

When the third driver blocked us from getting in TT2’s vehicle but otherwise completely ignored us, I started getting frustrated. TT2 was not aggressive (eventually trying to show us to TT3 – who, ironically, was not first in the queue, but he seemed willing to forget that!) and had a nice new tuktuk – and I just wanted to get to the airport.

Despite what they think, it’s ultimately our decision which tuk-tuk we use, so we got in and off we set. Finally. I just hope the driver didn’t get into too much trouble when he got back.

After a slow start (sleeping in a cave with no natural light makes for effortful mornings), we finally arrived at the airport. With very lax security – they checked our passports and tickets, and put our bags through a scanner, but all liquids were allowed through, along with a penknife (which is allowed under UK law, but shouldn’t have been in India). Once again, genders were separated – whereas in the UK both male and female personnel are present to body scan passengers, here the women have a completely separate line.

Several flights were delayed which affected ours, but we were soon on board. And just as we’d got airborne, we started the descent into Delhi.

Maybe we looked more confident, or maybe they knew there weren’t any international flights, but hardly anyone hassled us when we emerged from the terminal in Delhi – a refreshing change from our first experience here.

It was the same busy, dusty, noisy place – but it felt completely different. That’s often the case when you return somewhere at the end of a trip – the place hasn’t changed, but you you have. You now carry the experiences from the past few weeks.

A long check-in and up to the rooftop for dinner – to the tune of power tools the other side of the street. Probably another hotel.

Contrary to market stalls around the world, the market was only just getting going when we arrived at about 9:20am. Tarpaulin was wrapped around wares, but one stallholder was manually erecting his shelter by strapping wooden posts together. It was surprising for a hot country as usually they get started before the heat of the day kicks in.

Our target cafe still wasn’t open at 10:10am, so we headed elsewhere. A “large”, relaxed breakfast (in inverted commas because my frame of reference has changed completely over the past two weeks – I hardly eat a third of my normal portions, and still feel stuffed). Then a leisurely walk back up past Jai Pol – the fort’s gate built to commemorate Jodhpur’s victory over Jaipur when the deceased king’s fiancee was promised to another. And to Chokelao Bagh – a small garden the other side of the hill.

A very relaxed hour or so spent chatting amongst the relatively greenery of this forest state. A few zippers flew overhead – never understood why people want to zip line over things, rather than get up close.

Jaswant Thada was built in memory of Maharaja Jaswant Singhji II by his son. It was completed in 1906, nearby the deceased’s tomb. His successors were cremated to the east side, designated by smaller cenotaphs:

The Maharajas really did think they were a big deal. And they totally miss the point that they wouldn’t exist without women, who appear to be chattels to be used, sold and owned. As a woman, the constant pushing of male domination gets tiring and insulting.

My favourite part was the memorial to a peacock which “flew into Jaswant Singhji’s funeral pyre and perished”. Not sure that’s a nice way to go.

It was a peaceful place to sit, watching the staff watering the gardens and the tourists on their photoshoots.

A short walk round the corner revealed the Desert Rock Park – a fascinating walk through real-life geology. Shame I was tired, and didn’t take much of it in, but it was a pleasant stroll affording great views of the fort above.

A small dinner back where we’d had breakfast, and back to the ranch after a relaxingly full day.

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Random stuff from today:

Bitch with puppies:

I saw my first Indian mouse. Unfortunately, it was at the place we had just eaten dinner.

Beautiful black and blue hummingbird:

Building a fort or tomb or city seems to be the thing to do for the main man. And Jodha was no different, moving the capital to what became known as “Jodhpur” and building a fort. A very big fort.

Mehrangarh Fort is impressive:

In one incident a fight broke out between Jodhpur and Jaipur forces when the late Maharaja’s fiancee was promised by her father to the Maharaja of Jaipur. Tradition dictated that she should have married Gat Singh II’s successor, and Jodhpur’s forces expressed their displeasure by hijacking the wedding gift party en route to Jaipur. Jaipur forces responded by beseiging the fort for six months, ultimately fleeing. What the lady thought of all this is not recorded.

In another, rather strange, tale it was reported that a hermit was moved from the hill to make way for the fort. Understandably miffed, he cursed the fort with a lack of water. So the Maharaja appealed to the gods (as you do) and one man volunteered to be sealed alive in the fort’s foundations. I think this was a sacrifice to encourage the gods to listen to the Maharaja, but I was struggling to understand the connection between the lack of water and being buried alive.

Over the years, the fort changed hands many time but, as per above, it was never compromised. It’s not difficult to see why. The main gates require the enemy to scale a steep hill and, at the top, turn a sharp right-angle thereby preventing elephants ramming the doors (which were decorated with nasty-looking spikes to further disuade them from any monkey business):

Also near the door were hand prints with a rather distressing tale. After Maharaja Man Singh died, his queens dipped their hands in vermillion and left their prints on the wall as they passed through its gates for the last time. Led by the male royals (of course), they rode into town on palaquins, chanting hymns and distributing alms before sitting on the king’s funeral pyre and burning alive. In silence.  That someone thought this acceptable at any point in history is both astonishing and heart-breaking.

My favourite anecdote was that the current Maharaja, who retains only ceremonial status, set up a foundation to restore his family’s history and raised the first funds by selling bat droppings from the derelict fort. Very enterprising.

I also learnt that there is a specific term for the study of historical swords: spathology. The world never ceases to amaze me.

In an interesting gender rebalance, the Moti Mahal included disguised alcoves where the king’s women could listen to proceedings. He valued their counsel, apparently:

And here’s their zenana:

A walk on the ramparts showed why Jodhpur is nicknamed “the blue city” – the indigo paint not only cools during the summer but is an effective insect repellant.

Toorji ka jhalra was “built in the 1740s by Abhay Singh’s queen consort”. See, she doesn’t even have a name – she’s referred to in relation to the king only (*sigh*). It was an act in keeping with the tradition of ladies of the Royal family building water works. It’s a stepwell designed to capture precipitation – the steps around the sides enable easy access, whatever the water level. It was mainly used by women as fetching and storing water was one of their principal household chores.

The best bit about lunch was watching boys playing in the stepwell – one was jumping from the high viewing area opposite:

Like children everywhere, their play grew bolder, ending with them throwing each others belongings into the water and someone having to go back in to get them. But only the things that’d float 🙂

And, as ever, the stepwell was the setting for multiple photo shoots:

Dinner at the hotel was superb, although I felt slightly guilty when I realised that the lad had cooked it all himself. And the view of the fort was amazing:

A lazy morning and a wander to Old Rangji Temple (because it was next door). After being stung for 20R (which, to be fair, is only about 20p) each for a poor tour around the poor museum, they wouldn’t actually let us near the temple.  Once again, I feel unwelcome.

Foreign supermarkets are always interesting – seeing the everyday. And the everyday prices – I picked up an Oral B toothbrush for the grand sum of 29R (about 31p).

On the other hand, the procession of young men on white horses, surrounded by people dancing and loud music blaring, was definitely a special occasion, although I never figured out what.

Lunch was one of the best so far – I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d ordered but the homemade dips, chips, tomato and onion salad and fresh pitta, with one of the best coffees I’ve had so far, went down very well indeed:

During lunch, one of the staff asked if we’ve mind another joining us for the taxi to Ajmer station – he pointed out that it would be cheaper for all of us. Unfortunately, it didn’t come as a surprise that, upon arriving at the station, the taxi driver advised it was an extra 100R for three people. No, it’s not.

AC Chair Class was much better than 2nd clas – and whilst it wasn’t much more expensive (£8 vs £5), the percentage difference was significant. Each seat had plenty of leg room, and it was pretty empty so we had loads of space, which made the trip all the nicer.

A cleaner appeared… with supervisor in tow who proceeded to point out everything that should be swept, and reprimand him if he didn’t do it properly:

When the ticket inspector came round, he didn’t have us on his list and we’d moved to a nicer seat. A conversation between him and my companion ensued, the latter summing it up as follows: “I didn’t understand what he was saying and he didn’t understand what I was saying, but between us we agreed to leave the situation as it is.”

After an unremarkable, but comfortable journey, we arrived in Jodhpur. Approaching a tuktuk driver, we started negotiating a price when a second accepted our offer. A small tussle ensued and the first driver stormed off to get his tuktuk, telling us to get in. But the second had offered a better price. TT3 then got involved to explain they had a numbering system. “I don’t care about your number system,” I said, “I just want a good price.” He laughed in a slightly embarrassed way – they’ve clearly forgotten about the customer in all this.

Eventually, TT1 matched the best price, and off we went to our hotel. Or close to our hotel, because the final few hundred metres had to be walked because it was soooo steep. On the plus side, we’re just below the ramparts with a fantastic view of one of the best forts in Rajasthan.

Looking forward to exploring it tomorrow.

“Puja” is the act of worship – it’s the same word in Buddhism. Today was an important day and we were invited to take part. We suspected a request for money was just round the corner, but we went along with it. Except I didn’t, because it involved taking your shoes off – my bad foot makes walking very difficult without shoes. Unlike Buddhism however, which is not only understanding but compassionate and considerate, there were no exceptions to the no-shoes rules.

So my companion performed puja… and was then asked how much he would donate. A suggestion of 750R was made – this quite a lot of money in India. He gently and politely explained that this was like “selling religion”. Indians, of course, know the drill. But foreigners don’t. And Indians don’t explain before getting started. Pawan made the very good point that we are in India, but understood that the constant money demands are tiring for us.

Pawan and I also discussed the attitude to those unable to remove their shoes. He explained that, if he was seen undertaking puja with someone with their shoes on, he’d get bad karma. I explained that I’d never been disadvantaged before, but that Hinduism was not understanding. And also that I was pretty sure God wouldn’t mind. He summed it up when he said: “God doesn’t mind the shoes, but people do.” Despite their devotion, the people seem to be entirely missing the point.

We sat quietly, watching people performing puja and the cluster of pelicans on the lake diving for fish – they’d all suddenly duck under, scooping up the water with their enormous beaks.

The journey to Pushkar had been unremarkable in its landscape, but interesting in its company. We’d met C&J at our hotel and they’d kindly invited us to share their taxi. They were very enjoyable company and I learnt a lot about their home country, South Africa. For instance:

• High unemployment is caused by population growth fuelled by teenage pregnancies. Young people think nothing of becoming pregnant – there’s no sex education. Immigration from Malawi and Zimbabwe doesn’t help the numbers, either.
• Cape Town property prices are high because of the “swallows” flying south from Europe for the winter
• One of the most progressive aspects of SA life is that people can achieve no matter what their background – those from less privileged families can still become CEOs (if they so choose)

We’d stopped en route at a “commission coffee stop” – where the waiter was rather ungracious when we didn’t want breakfast. The money-grabbing never stops, and gets very tiring (he overcharged for my milk instead, and then expected a tip on top of the overinflated prices, too *sigh*).

Pushkar is very chilled compared to the other places we’ve been in India – the horns are less insistent, the cows better fed and there’s almost a seaside-resort feel to the place. Not only is it popular with foreign tourists, but many Indians make the pilgrimage to bathe in the holy waters of the lake, said to have appeared when Lord Krishna (he of the blue face) dropped a lotus flower here.

I suspected the presence of the lake was more to do with geology and geography. But that’s beside the point, really.

A rooftop restaurant facilitated very satisfactory people watching, punctuated by the metal-cutter being used in the building opposite. Locals have cottoned on that tourists like rooftop restaurants, and it’s fuelling higher and higher building. I realise I am part of this problem, so try to avoid those edifices that are clearly trying to get one-up on the others.

Unlike anywhere else so far, people have been actively feeding the animals, all of which look in much better condition, and much happier, as a result. Maybe that’s good karma as well.

Italian for dinner, which made a very welcome change for my western belly.

And finally, today’s selfie requests are worthy of note because of a) the number and b) the colourfulness of this wonderful group of people: