2018 India – Jaipur
After lunch we continued on our journey with a five-hour drive to Jaipur. A few years earlier I had bought a book entitled 501 Great Places to Stay. I often looked through it in awe but most places were either too inaccessible or prohibitively expensive. Federika was looking through the book and was surprised to find The Tree of Life in Jaipur, which was expensive for India but still the same price as a moderate hotel in Europe and for a few quid extra we could have our own private swimming pool. I hadn’t realised at the time of booking that the price quoted didn’t include a 30% too late to back out now tax but we would still have booked it anyway.
A few kilometres from the hotel the road started to shrink until it became just sand and it looked at times like we were going to get stuck as the wheels started spinning. The driver did a great job and it wasn’t long before with great relief we turned into the hotel driveway. When we got out of the car I was surprised at how cold it was. At four degrees it was colder than England. We were greeted by the manager who showed us into a little room to do the paperwork and then took us to our private villa. They say that one of the many great things about India is that you can treat yourself to luxuries that you could not normally afford. In some countries we would have paid thousands of pounds a night to stay in a place like that. There was a huge living room with a sofa and a large dining table and chairs. A doorway led to the large garden complete with a swimming pool, sun loungers, showers, a hot tub and even two massage tables. 
The bedroom was equally big with the bed in the middle of the room and a large dome built into the ceiling which was backlit with red lighting. Behind the bed was a nice little writing desk. At the far end was a walk-in wardrobe and then a bathroom which was bigger than most hotel rooms we have stayed in. It was amazing and fortunately had heaters in every room so the place soon warmed up. After three hectic days in Delhi, it was just what we needed.
Our first day in Jaipur was designated a chill-out day. Breakfast was an extensive menu plus anything that wasn’t on the menu. The dining room was quite cold but acceptable. After breakfast we took a walk around the large grounds. There were 14 villas in total and only nine of them were occupied so we didn’t see many other guests around the place. Villas were spaced well apart with hedges in between and the gardens were well maintained with little religious statues everywhere. In front of the reception was a lily pond and every time we went past it we saw my favourite bird, the kingfisher. There was a large infinity pool but in common with our own pool, it was far too cold to swim. They gave the option of a romantic dinner with a table on a platform in the middle of the pool surrounded by hundreds of candles for a mere £200. One night we saw a couple having dinner there and I would have been tempted to take up the offer but it was freezing and I didn’t see any kind of heating. 
We booked a driver through the hotel for the next day who didn’t speak a word of English but the hotel manager told him what we wanted to see so we assumed there would be no problems. We knew the hotel was a long way from town but hadn’t realised just how far and because of the heavy traffic, it took nearly an hour. First stop was the enormous Amber Palace built on top of a hill. When we reached the village beneath the palace our driver had been instructed to get us a “good guide” and we had assumed that as the driver took people there regularly he must have known the guides personally. He stopped the car and asked a stranger where we could find an English-speaking guide and he pointed to some men sitting chatting on a wall. One of the men came over and sat in our car and he explained he was to be our guide. In every tourist destination we had ever been to, tourists were warned not to accept the services of unofficial guides. This man assured us that he was an official guide and when I asked to see his licence he handed me a document. He claimed it was his licence but it was obviously an ID card. I wasn’t happy but Federika said she wasn’t bothered and as we had had plenty of official guides who were terrible, we accepted it. He turned out to be excellent. During the morning we spent at the Palace I didn’t see a single official guide and no police checking credentials so it seemed that the authorities were insisting that tourists used guides that didn’t exist.
During our coffee break our guide explained how there were 21 in his family all living in the same big house and they all got along very well. In the old days, the women shared a kitchen but his grandfather had the foresight to know that future generations would want their own space so when a child got married, he built an extension with everything the newlyweds needed.
At the end of the tour he left us at the entrance to a shop where a man was demonstrating block printing. The demonstration lasted 30 seconds and then we were shuffled into the shop where we were pressured into buying Pashmina scarves. Some of the scarves cost around £250 each and we were assured theirs were the cheapest in India but as this was our first shop and we were always nervous about the shops that guides took us to, Federika didn’t buy anything.
After lunch we went to another tourist destination but by the end of the day I had forgotten what it was as by now most sites were blending into one. More to my taste was Man Sagar Lake where we saw a very busy and enticing promenade so we asked the driver to stop so we could walk around and soak up the happy atmosphere of Indian families. There was a small crowd standing around someone taking photos and the next thing I knew someone was wrapping a turban around my head, arming me with a curly sword and fitting me with baggy trousers and matching jacket. Federika had received a similar treatment and we were directed to the front of the lake where photos were taken of us dressed in the Rajasthan national costume. They printed a dozen photos and showed them to us asking how many we wanted. They were all very good so they weren’t happy when we only bought one, but how many photos do you need of the same thing? 
Finally, our driver was meant to take us to a museum of block printing called Anokhi but he didn’t seem to have a clue where it was. We drove around with him stopping and asking people for directions until we arrived at a place which was a shop called Anokhi. It was connected to the museum but not the museum itself which was in another part of town. It was all very confusing but Federika liked the shop so the visit wasn’t wasted.
Next day the hotel booked us another driver and he spoke very good English which was a relief. He took us to the Anokhi Museum of block printing which turned out to be right next to Amber Palace where we were the day before. A man was sitting on the floor carving out wooden blocks used for printing and made a little one for us to take home. The main reason for our visit was to look at the printing process but it was a Friday and as all the workers were Muslim so they had gone to prayer.
Federika was keen to buy some Pashmina scarves and as we trusted this driver we let him take us to a shop that sold an amazing variety at what seemed like good prices. As soon as the sales assistants saw we were interested they started pulling dozens of scarves from the shelves and throwing them on the counter making it harder to walk away without buying one. Federika managed to find a few she liked so was happy to buy them.
On our way to the next stop, the chatty driver showed us a picture of his two sons (yes he was still driving) and explained how most marriages in India were arranged and that 80% of them were successful. As long as the people were given a choice it always seemed a good idea to me. Parents asked around their large community for a suitable partner for their children so the community in effect became a nonprofit making dating agency. It was daft that our way was to go about our daily lives and hope we bumped into the person we would spend the rest of our lives with. If the person we bumped into turned out to be from a long line of axe murderers we wouldn’t find out until it was too late but at least we would know that our meeting was romantic. What surprised me about our driver was that he had told his father that he didn’t need to see the bride before the marriage and he would accept whoever his father had chosen. I just hope his bride was given the same choice.
The driver took us to the centre of town to have lunch in the well-known LM Restaurant and despite being a large restaurant there was a waiting list. The queueing area was packed solid and quite unpleasant but we didn’t have to wait long. Outside the temperature was a pleasant 28 degrees so I was taken aback when we sat down to find the air conditioning had reduced the temperature down to near freezing point. We were shown to a table and while I could put up with the noise from so many diners talking at the same time, I wasn’t so sure I would survive the arctic conditions. 
We were both tired and hungry and the thought of hunting around for somewhere else to eat in the chaotic street outside was unthinkable. I put on a jumper and my woolly hat and sat there looking ridiculous in a restaurant full of people in shirtsleeves. I didn’t know if one of the waiters saw me and took pity but it wasn’t long before they must have turned the A/C off and what a relief it was to get back to a normal temperature. It was a strange menu. I had no idea what I ordered but it was good and contained potatoes and pasta with a thick layer of grated cheese grilled on top. Crunchy grilled cheese makes everything taste good.
The rest of the afternoon was spent looking around the shops with the constant irritation of shopkeepers pestering us to buy from them. We were happy to find an off-road area that was run by the government where all the stalls’ owners were much less aggressive which made us more inclined to buy stuff.
On the day we left Jaipur it was a special holiday where the main activity was kite flying and as we were driving to the airport there were thousands of people of all ages flying very basic kites. The kids became so engrossed in it that sometimes they went dashing into the busy road and nearly got hit by cars. All along the road there were poles supporting cables that were covered with kites that had got caught up in them. I felt sorry for the kids who were mostly very poor and could probably only afford one cheap kite a year, only to fly it straight into some cables. I got to thinking that maybe I grew up poorer than I thought. When I was very young I took one of my mum’s cotton reels and tied a few sheets of toilet paper to it. I let off a lot of cotton and went running down the street trying to get some lift like I had seen people do with real kites. It wasn’t a great success. I held the end of the cotton and threw the reel over a telephone cable so it landed by my feet where my toilet paper kite was waiting patiently. The idea was I would run down the street holding the cotton and the kite would go up to the cable and once airborne it would soar off into the sky. It wasn’t a great success. The kite got stuck in the cable and the tangled cotton stayed there for weeks afterwards.
2018 India
