Jaipur

Just when you think you’ve seen the ultimate Indian fort, we were left speechless as we entered the court yard of the Amber Fort to the sounds of drums and a curly woodwind instrument playing a hypnotic one-note dance-y number and elephants parading around and out of the gates.  It’s touristy but awesome.


The Amber Fort is more like a palace and is the old state capital of Jaipur state. Its Rajput architecture is magnificent with all its glorious mirrored rooms and courtyards for the maharaja’s wives and concubines. We did this tour with a guide this time, which always has its ups and downs.

In front of a palace in the lake we fed the black fish with bits of dough given to us by some kids. The water was so black it was like something out of the lake from Springfield in The Simpsons. We then headed to Jantar mantar, an ancient observatory, which resembled something out of a Dali painting, with its myriad of sundials and astrological devices. It was also a place where letchy locals can take photographs of western female tourists (it’s always nice when you’re not wanted in a photograph but you’re in it anyway).

Amazingly the sundials actually work and give accurate local Jaipur time (apparently). There are also devices to tell your zodiac sign as well as your ascendency (essentially a two-hour window which means something when you are born).

Next door – the city palace was more of the sign – beautiful architecture, opulent furniture and tourist gaggles. It’s a bit like Buckingham Palace, in that the current King of Rajasthan lives here, a 16-year old boy.

All this before lunch. By 2 o’clock we were desperate for some food and to ditch the guide, which we did after the usual haggling over money (following his insistence all day that it was a free tour).

However, the markets at Jaipur are great. Lots and lots of old shops, little in the way of tourists and tourist tat, and a lot in the way of locals sitting in shops trying and buying the wares. A perfect place to stock up on presents and pashmina scarves!

Knackered we made our way to the eye-watering luxurious Rambagh Palace Hotel and relaxed on the beautiful lawns with a cup of Darjeeling tea before heading inside for some alcoholic refreshment (it didn’t take that long!). Contented and rested we hired a rickshaw and headed back to the Haveli for a home cooked, but awkward, meal with the owner with the staff standing around our table. There was no one else staying there that night and the dining room was empty!

Quaint old buildings

An early start. Wrapped up in our warmest clothes we queued to see the Taj Mahal at sunrise – a surreal experience and not spoilt by the hundreds of tourists who had opted to do the same thing.

The misty mornings and evenings are India at its most atmospheric and no more so than at the Taj Mahal. The amber sunrise on the mausoleum sees it change colour every minute, every type of red, orange and pink before becoming brilliantly white. We walked up gawping at its beauty and hopping barefoot on the cold marble slabs.

However, the most surprising thing about Agra is the disparity between the inherent wealth and beauty of the Taj Mahal and the extreme poverty and degradation that exists right outside its gates. There’s no gradient – you are greeted by beggars and touts, people missing limbs, there’s sewage running in the open drains and run-down buildings. It’s inexplicable that next to one of the greatest architectural wonders of the world that millions of Indian and foreign tourists flock to every year, that there is not some spread of the tourist buck that doesn’t extend to just a few chain restaurants and hotels.

Having had breakfast on a rooftop café overlooking the Taj (deliberately not looking at the kitchen as we entered) we made our way to Agra Fort by 10 and were greeted by monkeys at its gates. Agra Fort is a million times better than the Red Fort at Delhi. Not only is it bigger, but it is in better condition, more ornate and doesn’t contain British military barracks.

On the road again and next stop, Fatehpur sikri, an ancient palace just outside of Agra with huge buildings dedicated to each of Emperor Akbar’s three wives in the 1500’s. It’s a big area in the middle of nowhere and looking over in the distance you can see crumbling walls on the horizon which suggest that there is a lot more of it.

There’s a busy mosque but beautiful mosque next door, Jama Masjid, which contained more hassle from touts and kids than you might expect.

We then had a long drive to Jaipur across flatlands interspersed with ancient chimney stacks and rice / spice fields and we arrived at our hotel after nightfall.

An old Haveli just outside the old centre of Jaipur called Nanaki, the place is run by an old lady whose family owned the house since it was built more than one hundred years ago. It’s secluded location just outside the old city walls means that it’s a world away from the dirty and hectic streets outside its walled surroundings. Even the auto rickshaw drivers had problems finding it.

Day 2 – Delhi in a morning

A cock roach in my omelette is hopefully not a sign of things to come as we made our speedy getaway from our hotel with our hired driver for the next six days, Laxman.

First stop, the Jama Masjid, a magnificent mosque somewhere in Delhi, with beautiful orangey misty views of the Red Fort about a mile away, endless birds flying overhead and little in the way of hassling touts. An hour later we were walking around the Fort’s impressive red walls which are extremely good at keeping the beeping Delhi car horns out of earshot.

Our whirlwind tour of Delhi then took us to Humayun’s tomb – an appetizer for the Taj Mahal with its huge dome and tourist gaggles (mostly Indian and mostly part of a school trip). Our last stop before leaving Delhi was Hasrat nizan-ud-din dargah, a dingy Islamic area, with dark alleyways, strange smells and beggars crapping in the street. It was also uncomfortable being publicly berated in English for wearing shorts unknowingly about to enter a mosque. Not even profusely apologising could help or stop the eyes from all around the small, cramped square from staring.

A meal at the ‘world famous’ Karim’s restaurant was swift before we were again speeding south, this time out of Delhi and towards Agra, the driver’s home, ducking and weaving through the traffic – cars, motorcycles and camels.

One day in and we were already craving some western food, so finding the local Pizza Hut was a necessary evil, on my part especially as Gemma can happily eat curry for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Day 1 – The trip begins

The post-departure airport scrum welcomes us to India and having wrestled through the crowds it's not long before we have left the taxi touts behind and we are on our way into Delhi.

Delhi is everything I imagined – crazy traffic, honking horns and cars driving the wrong way down one-way roads.

There’s also the countless beggars lining the streets. It’s sobering when stopping at traffic lights and women and children are knocking desperately on your window for money from their rubbish-strewn roadside homes. A jarring reminder of how lucky we are in the West and how different life is for a someone working in a PR agency in London compared with an average Indian living and working in Delhi. It’s moments like these, uncomfortable as they may be, that really put life in perspective. The lesson’s been learnt, and it’s a lesson that I have been taught countless times. It’s just difficult to know what the answer is.

A stop in at a travel agency, a hotel booking gone wrong and we eventually find ourselves in an alternative hotel down a busy side street. The hotel is fine enough – they’ve managed to install a flat screen TV but forgotten to paint the walls and the cold water trickles out of the shower. It’s difficult to complain, however, seeing the poverty from the bedroom window.

We crashed at the hotel for a couple of hours and then headed back off to the same travel agency, walking out thirty minutes later having booked a six-day private driver around some parts of Rajasthan I have of and many I haven’t.

A quick trip to India gate (an Indian version of the Arc de Triumph) and then for a vegetarian curry in an isolated restaurant square somewhere in sprawling New Delhi with not a sniff of beer in sight (the start of a detox perhaps?). Veggie curries and water / masala tea from now on.

By nine we were dead, it was cold and we needed to sleep. The days are pleasant, like a summer’s day in England but as the sun goes down the temperature plummets and we were grateful for our December London winter wear.

Tomorrow we leave Delhi and head south to Agra – home of the Taj Mahal.

PS Writing this at 5:30 in the morning with Islamic call-to-prayer drifting over the city.

PPS Interesting to wake up on the plane as we flew over a cloudless Afghani morning – the mountains, deserts and opium fields reminiscent of many a News at 10 report.