Fantastic Four in Rajasthan

I thought it was high time that I (Alex) submitted something to our Blog. Considering I like writing stories the expectation level may be fairly high for the writing quality, but I really can't outmatch Andy's humour so I won't try, and will simply keep to the unadorned facts. Fortunately in India even plain facts are pretty unbelieveable.

After arriving safely in Delhi from Kathmandu and meeting successfully with our friend Chairman and Andy's mum Barbara who had just arrived from the UK, we met our driver, aptly named Raj, and departed straight away for the first stop on our Indian odyssey throughout Rajasthan - a town called Mandawa. Andy and I swiftly had to change our views on things like hotels, tips and meals from those of (we felt) pretty intrepid travellers, to rather privileged tourists, as we arrived at our haveli (read: mansion) in Mandawa and were shown our bedroom - sorry, suite - painted from top to bottom with ancient frescos, a bathroom bigger than our living room at home and an extra room which we couldn't work out the use for, but was something between a dressing room and an art gallery. It was, quite simply, stunning. We had decided to stay in Mandawa to see the famous frescos, but throughout our two days there didn't see one building as beautiful as our hotel. Unfortunately the downside of staying in a living museum is being treated as a first class tourist. The local attitude in Mandawa seemed to be '5 rupees a smile' as almost without exception people expected a tip after any sort of kindness or service. Fresh from Delhi, with wads of notes bulging from our pockets, I guess it was to be expected, but it was still quite a shock to the system. However, the lovely hotel did us proud and Barbara I am delighted to say celebrated her birthday milestone in style.

From Mandawa we journeyed a hefty 5 hours to Bikaner, getting nearer to the Thar desert. By now we had started to acclimatise to the high-30s heat, bovine road blocks (which Barbara never fails to find hilarious), and the odd dead dog lying beside the tarmac, legs in the air. The ground turned from grey to red dust, and beyond the road all we could see was flat scrubland with the occasional rocky outcrop. This might be toursit-ville, but it felt like the wild west. Towns in this part of Rajasthan seem to earn their identity by colour, and Bikaner's was red. The crimson fort which decorates the centre of the town was beautiful.

Throne room at Bikaner fort:

However, the real highlight was visiting the camel breeding farm, the only one in India. You see these wonderfully proud, dignified creatures everywhere you go in this part of India. They're used for riding, load carrying, racing and even beauty pageants (we were lucky enough to meet Mr Bikaner 2010!). After a tour round the farm, during which the guide delightedly showed us a display of an unborn camel foetus - which Chairman was admirably sensitive about...

we had a very short ride on two Bikaneri camels. Barbara displayed the altheticism and bravery of a woman at least half her age. It was a proud moment.
Afterwards we had a quick refreshment at the camel farm cafe. Camel milk, anyone?
Just before we went back to our hotel that same evening, we just had time to visit the famous rat temple a few km away. None of us had read that much about the temple, save that rats were offered sanctuary there. So, we thought we may see one or two lurking around which the locals had placed there for the benefit of the tourists. Er, no. There were about a million of them. And they had no fear of humans. And it was the evening, which meant there was rat poo everywhere. Mum - look away right now, as this next bit will scar you for life...

So, after possibly the oddest wildlife experience of our lives we left rather hurriedly for Jaisalmer, the Golden City, a little daunted at what this new town may have in store for us. But - in the unpredictable way that India has - it surprised us by being absolutely charming, without a rat in sight. It truly is a golden city - not one building stands that is not finely crafted from rich yellow sandstone, surrounded by the mighty Thar desert. It's the last frontier town between India and the now impregnable border with Pakistan, and as such relies heavily on tourism, yet has still retained a charm and picturesque beauty that clenches your heart. We spent long evenings on the roof of our lovely hotel, sipping drinks under the desert night sky, with the city twinkling around and below us like a movie set. We also found the people here much more friendly, and our hotel hosts were fantastically generous. We felt we had properly - at last - found the real, magical side of India. We had arrived.

Our wonderful sandstone hotel in Jaisalmer:

Jaisalmer Fort, the only 'living' fort in India:

Our new-found enthusiasm was a little dented the following day as we took part in the compulsory camel ride to the sand dunes, before we left Jaisalmer. The camels were cross, the guides were tourist-weary and the dunes were heaving with tourists, scurrying in the sand like ants, trying to take photos of the 'authentic desert landscape' (which unfortunately was a little marred by a white peugoet 106 which some joker had no doubt purposely planted exactly in the middle of the scene between the dunes and the sunset.) Luckily I did manage to capture one decent snap:

I have never had a more touristy tourist experience. Not because of the camel ride or the orchestrated set - but because of the other tourists. They were almost all Indian and had erupted from a series of coaches further down the dunes. We four seperated ourselves and found a quiet patch of sand a few hundred metres away from the mass, only to suddenly and without warning find ourselves the objects of the Indian tourists' attentions - stuff the sunset. Lenses were poking right at us, we were snapped from different angles and heights. Why? we asked ourselves. We still don't know the answer to this. I can only assume that somewhere in India is a museum with something like the ape-to-human evolutionary diagram on it, but based on us instead ("see the British? They arrived here powerful and proud, with their trilby safari hats, ivory walking canes and gleaming Ford motor cars. See them today, with their cheap chinese manufactured clothing, japanese cameras and vulgar american-style baseball caps. Who has been conquered now? Mwah ha ha ha ha).

As if to add insult to injury, yesterday we arrived in Jodhpur (if you didn't guess, it's where the riding trousers are named after), only to arrive at a perfectly collonial villa, complete with photos of past polo players in full regalia. However, I'm happy to report that Jodhpur is very much a working city, full of craftsmen and marketfolk going about their business, fully restored to India-ness, with a simply magnificent fort to top it off. Oh, and this is the 'Blue City'.

Jodhpur fort:The Blue City:

So it's tallyho as we move on for Udaipur, the 'White City'. I hope everyone at home is well (we heard today that you're enjoying an Indian summer, oh the irony).

Love Alex xxx