Sylvia's Journal

An early rise allowed us to squeeze as much of Jaipur into our day that also included the ride back to Delhi (6.5 hours). Although also a prime tourist destination Jaipur did not quite feel the tourist trap that Agra is. Despite the chaos we felt right at home. Our hotel was in one of the restored houses of the well to do, a heritage hotel (15% of remodeling to become a hotel compliments of the federal government). The design and decoration reminded me of a computer program that allows you to drag any kind of architectural style onto a layout of a house, and a whole family got involved, each dragging that which he or she liked best, producing a hodgepodge house.

We did the usual tourist stuff: a picture of the Wind Palace where the court ladies could peek at normal town life from behind marble lattice work, a ride on an elephant into the Amber Fort. While waiting in line we met John of Dutch descent who now lives on Baffin Island in the far north of Canada. His ancestors came from Zwolle where Axel and I just passed by only a week ago.

He and his wife were a little on the heavy side and so, in order to distribute the weight evenly they had to lay nearly flat on the elephant seat. They flopped back and forth at each step of the elephant. It did not look like fun.

The whole world was at Amber Fort which made it rather crowded, even though it can hold a lot of people. After the fort we stopped for the obligatory picture of the Water Palace which also happened to be the focus of the kite festival that was celebrated that very day. There were dances and kite design exhibits, a 50 kite superkite that was hovering above us, a marching band and someone who looked like the last maharaja (an obese gentleman dressed in traditional clothes and with diamonds on his cheeks). Axel got to fly a kite and managed to get it cut down in 5 seconds.

Last stop was the Jantar Mantar which, our guide told us, produced the word jantra mantra which is the Indian version of abracadabra. I can’t quite remember the connection between a magician and the scientist who figured out the complex astronomical calculations, including the tilt of the earth and the distance to the equator.

We got the idea of the sundials but not the astrological equipment that determined the sign for each day and the signs of the zodiac in back of it. The only thing we did notice is that the Leo and the Sagitarius were right next to each other, just like the two of us.

After another excellent lunch we realized we were not going to get back to Delhi before nightfall. This worried me more than it worried Axel. Our guide claimed the road was excellent which it decidedly was not. It was probably the most uncomfortable and haried part of our trip and undid some of the vacation (and massage)-induced sense of relaxedness.

Thanks to our good driver and a lot of luck we made it safely back to Delhi. I did notice that Indian drivers have difficulty committing to lanes and so the weaving in and out of lanes was for them not weaving but simply hedging their bets. Our driver participated enthusiastically in this mad rush.

We had our driver drop us off at Connaught Place for a last Indian meal. After that, to complete the India experience, we rode back to the hotel in an auto-rickshaw (or baby taxi as I learned to call them in Bangladesh). And now it’s time to go home.

Live, the Taj Mahal is even more breathtaking than in the pictures. I had no idea of all the architectural treasures that surround it. We both liked the guesthouse, the mehman khana, with its red sandstone interior. I did try to imagine what it would be like to be a guest in such high vaulted and stone places, without windows, and very draughty and cold in the winter. I was told there were curtains and the place was carved up in smaller interior spaces – still it would be the equivalent of a high vaulted church in Europe.

Mumtaz’s story, albeit it a love story, is also a story about family planning, or rather the sad failure of family planning. She died at 29 during her 14th delivery, with 8 children already dead. The emperor’s tears may have been real and sincere, but she had more reason to shed them. Not only did she lose 8 of her children, her rival’s son imprisoned her king until he died.

Later we saw his ‘prison’ which was not such a bad place; he had a nice view of Mumtaz’ tomb, the river, the town, his own mosque and some pretty nice baths.

We had two enormous beers on a rooftop terrace until it got too chilly and then found a restaurant that Lonely Planet recommended. The food was good but the atmosphere left something to be desired – eating alone in a restaurant is always a little unsettling. But then again, Indians eat late and we were early.

We stayed at Colonel Lamda’s guesthouse. It took forever to find it in the suburbs of Agra. The colonel is an elderly and presumably retired military who is running a small guesthouse. When we arrived he was giving a cooking class to a party from Oxford. The room was frigid and there was no way to heat it as the entire guesthouse was running on solar battery power. We crawled under our 15 pound Chinese blankets, 2 of them, and remembered that this is how most of the people in this part of the world go to bed at night.

Being essentially without electricity meant we could not charge our electronics; besides there was no internet, hence the missed posting.

On Thursday we toured Agra’s red fort (more bad news for women as I learned that pregnant concubines were thrown off the ramparts into a big holding tank. It was not clear whether the cheetahs cleaned up the mess or some untouchables; either way, not a pleasant practice or sight). I assume that the ladies in the harem must have figured out how to not get pregnant or abort, or both, as not knowing was potentially lethal.

We visited the abandoned Mughal capital of Farahpur Sikri on our way to Jaipur. We discovered that dealing with dead India (the Mughal architectural treasures) is much easier than dealing with live India, the hawkers, touts, pseudo guides and shoe wallas who all want to extract as much money out of you as possible for next to no effort. It made me not want to come back to Agra.

Five hours later, in Jaipur, all knotted up from the long ride in our ‘luxury sedan’ we noticed the Ayurvedic massage place near our hotel and managed to get the last 70 minute slot of the day. Side by side, with a curtain separating us, we were sprinkled with hot oils until our skin couldn’t absorb anymore. We emerged relaxed and oily like sardines, greasy hair like Elvis.

We asked out driver to take us to a nice local restaurant, which he did. Inside celebrations were taking place, for a birthday, and the lengthening of the days, with drums, fire, a puppet show and traditional dancing. The best part of it all was that we were the only foreigners and no one was trying to get us to buy stuff we didn’t want. In fact, we bought exactly what we want, which included some adult beverages, and then were invited to join in the festivities with the all-Indian patrons.

We declined and later wondered why? Because we had to get up early to see more of dead India. This touring business on a tight schedule to see dead India has some flaws, we realize now. Next time, we keep saying, next time…

Axel may have gotten over his fears of India, and Delhi in particular. We are resting briefly in between two program elements. We completed the tour of Delhi and are now waiting for another part of our programmed ‘India Experience.’

The travel agent put together a tour of a few of Delhi’s treasures rather than a race to see as many as possible. After March 15 we can come back for more. The day time tour included a visit to the big mosque, a rickshaw tour of the tiny alleyways of Delhi, a visit to the Ghandi memorial, including a hi-tech/hi-touch media show that he probably would have disapproved of (but fun for kids).

The low point of our day was a visit to a tourist trap where a nice gentleman from Kashmir tried to sell us carpets, and after he understood that we have no great need for expensive carpets in a place like Afghanistan, he tried gemstones; After I indicated that I wear no jewelry he tried pashmina and kasmiri shawls; but the stuff is sold closer to our home (probably for a little less). He still didn’t give up selling us something but we left when we realized we had wasted precious time holding off the salesman’s advances and would have to make a choice between Humayoon’s tomb and the Qtub complex. We chose the latter.

We were dazzled by the Qtub buildings. Never have I seen such an amalgamation of building materials from various religious traditions, on such a scale, and with such intricate carvings. I now wished I had the History of the Khyber Pass under my arm as much what produced such architecture is intricately linked to what happened in Afghanistan and further west.

For lunch our guide took us to a restaurant (Pindi) located in what looked like a gated community neighborhood. He helped us picked two great dishes (another thing Axel is now less worried about) and then left. We ate our lunch while above my head Kansas battled Oklahoma for a place in the college basketball competition.

Dinner was in one of the government employee housing complexes, with Ankit, his fiancée and his mother. We barely saw the mother because she was busy producing one tray full of chapattis after another. Ankit is an employee of the firm that is responsible for our India experience. He and his fiancée will marry later this year. They are both part of a new young middle class whose parents left their rural roots to make it in the big city and modern India. They did. It was a neat introduction to some of the basic dynamics that are transforming this place.

I was so engrossed in my new Quaker sampler, cross stitching until I was cross eyed and had to buy (yes, really) a pair of +2.00 Cross eyeglasses from the KLM tax free trolley so that I could see the 2 tiny strands around which the stitches crossed. It made the 8 hours of the AMS-DEL trip go by so fast that we had landed before I realized we were there. The extra 145 Euros we had paid for our comfort seats were well worth it; who needs business class?

We were let into the country by two officials who pointed out we had not filled in all the boxes on our landing card but they were nice about it and let us fill it in right there and then. Unlike our previous helly Delhi experience of less than a week ago, now it was mellow Delhi.

Rahul from the travel agency stood waiting for us with the yellow sign we had been told to look out for. He had bottles of water for us and a taxi on standby, then delivered us to the Visaya hotel which welcomed us to an enlightened experience. Page one of the guest services book is devoted to an explanation of visaya which has something to do with the soul’s spiritual function.

On the more material side, Rahul left us with a bag containing travelers’ advice, vouchers, our itinerary and other useful stuff. I think we get to keep the bag. It is made from several materials that India exports (jute, raffia, and silk) or turns into products we westerners want.