2018 India – Udaipur
13th January 2018
We had booked a flight with a small airline and as always were at the airport early which was just as well because for the first time in my life, we took off early. The 45-minute flight was supposed to leave at 6.40 pm and we landed at 6.50. That was a weird feeling and very welcome in a country where I had read that two or three-hour delays were not uncommon for domestic flights. We booked an airport taxi at the local kiosk that took us to our hotel in Udaipur. Having just stayed in the middle of nowhere we were both looking forward to being in the centre of town.
As we drove into town the streets became smaller and more hectic. Suddenly the driver stopped and pointed up a hill and said, “Hotel up there.” For all we knew it could have been five metres or five miles to the hotel. As there was no way we were going to get out of the car with all our luggage we just sat there. He got the message and drove for another five minutes when again he stopped and pointed up a hill and said, “Hotel up there” but this time he added “No Cars.” Federika had just seen a car going up the street so again we made it clear we weren’t getting out of the car unless it was outside our hotel. He gave up and went up the hill which we later found out was forbidden for cars so he was telling the truth. It was a tiny road with two-way traffic and the noise and chaos were horrendous so he had to be very quick dropping off our suitcases.
We checked in at the Treebo Udai Niwas Hotel and were shown to our deluxe room, which was on the second floor, just a few meters from the traffic and the nonstop car horns. It was a weird room and with no windows it was quite dark. There were two doors which led onto our balcony but if we opened them to let in some light, the noise got much worse. Even more weird was that with the door open we could see clearly into the living rooms of several families in the building next door, just a few meters away on the other side of the street.
We settled into our room and went for dinner at their rooftop restaurant which meant climbing up five flights of stairs that were so narrow that my shoulders were nearly touching the walls. There was a lift but it looked very old and I had read in reviews that it sometimes broke down so there was no way we were going to use that. The food wasn’t great but it was lovely sitting on the rooftop looking out over the city and lake with Indian music wafting in from all directions.
The next morning we went to Udaipur City Palace and once again hired a guide who was excellent and essential as the place was like a maze. He had been doing the job since 1964 and obviously loved his work. It certainly kept him fit as at the end of the tour we had walked four kilometres and he did five tours a day. We had lunch in the city palace grounds where it was peaceful so we were well rested before tackling the chaos of the walk around the town.
I knew that cows were sacred in India but I had always assumed there was just the odd one here and there and that they were all owned by someone but we were told that they were all wild and just wandered around aimlessly. There were quite a few in Agra but there in Udaipur, they were everywhere. It was impossible to describe just how chaotic the streets were with no pavements, traffic whizzing past us honking their horns and there in the middle of it all a cow strolling around like it was in an empty field in the country. Mostly they just stood there looking pleased with themselves but on one occasion I saw a large cow pursuing a woman down the street while she frantically tried to shoo it away. I also thought that the cows gave milk but in common with all the goats and wild pigs hanging around the place they had no use whatsoever. Cows that produced milk were bred for that purpose and kept on farms. Meat from the wild goats and pigs was not suitable for eating. There were also lots of dogs roaming free around the streets so apart from the rubbish everywhere we also had to be careful of dog, goat, pig and cow shit.
Overcrowding on vehicles was amusing. It was common to see families of four sitting on a scooter and none of them wearing crash helmets. Anyone who has travelled on a tuk-tuk will know how cramped they can be with just two of you but I counted 10 people in one tuk-tuk and 6 to 8 people was quite normal.
That evening we went to a folk dancing show which was held in the open-air courtyard of an old mansion. Once again there was a huge queue for Indians and a shorter one for foreigners but both queues led to a single man selling tickets. Inside, they packed us in like sardines. There was a large area in the front where people sat on the floor but we were lucky to get a comfortable seat at the back, centre with an excellent view. First, there was a variety of folk dancing including two women dancing with bowls of fire on their heads. There was a mock sword fight between two men dressed colourfully with one of them riding a third man who was pretending to be a horse. 
Then a man came on with a puppet act which was brilliant and very funny. My favourite was a puppet with a detachable head and its finale was to throw its head into the air, do a handstand and catch it in the soles of its feet. I loved puppets in general but that was exceptional.
The star of the show was an elderly woman balancing three baskets on her head. It was good but nothing special. Then she went offstage, had another two baskets put on her head, returned to the stage and danced on some broken glass. Now it was getting interesting. Then she went back, added another two baskets and returned centre stage where she stood on the edge of a metal tray and shuffled around in time to the music. At this point, everyone had warmed to her and there was a lot of applause. Unbelievably, she went back and someone climbed a step ladder to put another three baskets on her head so by now the stack of baskets was enormous. This time she came out and wiggled around on more broken glass whilst animating the audience to wild applause and still the baskets stayed on her head. During her encore the commentator announced that the woman was 74 years old.
No one could have followed an act like that so the show ended and the venue quickly emptied. As we walked out we saw an equally long queue for the second performance and once again a single man was selling tickets. A great night and even though we paid three times more than the locals it still cost only £1.50 each.
Back at our hotel room when I opened the door there was the most horrendous smell of drains. We were both very tired so there was no question of changing to another room but it would have been impossible to sleep with such a stink and this wasn’t a cheap hotel. Fortunately, Federika had bought some incense sticks so she lit one and within minutes the smell disappeared. We had made the mistake of leaving the bathroom door open so after that we closed the door and put a bucket over the drain hole which seemed to do the trick.
The next morning we took a boat ride on Lake Pichola to an island opposite which was built by one of the kings for the sole purpose of honeymooning. Despite being a short boat ride we were made to wear life jackets. So a family of four was allowed to ride on a single motor scooter without helmets on chaotic streets but they were not allowed to ride on a boat on a calm lake without life jackets. Strange logic.
The island was pleasant enough but there was not much to it so we returned on the next boat an hour later. By the lakeside we were taking some pictures when a friendly man started chatting with us and as always asked us how we were and where we were from. We were still at the early stage of the holiday when we thought people were just being friendly and had an actual interest in how we were and where we were from. When I said England his eyes lit up and he told us that in a few hours, he and a small group were being funded by the Indian government to travel to England where they were going to exhibit at the Victoria and Albert Museum. His 94-year-old grandmother had made the wall hanging they exhibiting and would we like to see it in his shop. Once in his shop, he kept going on about his wonderful grandmother and showing us pashmina scarves which ranged from £10 to £250. I looked at the wall covering he claimed would be exhibited by the Victoria and Albert Museum. It was a kind of tapestry with lots of beads and although it looked impressive at first, when I looked closer it didn’t seem to be finished very well but I said nothing. From there he launched into a full barrage of hard selling with his bullshit including the claim that Judy Dench and various other celebrities had bought from the large collection of hand-painted scarves that his grandmother had made. She must have been the hardest-working 94-year-old woman on the planet.
Federika agreed to buy a camel pashmina scarf that she really liked although I had no doubt that despite knocking him down from half the original price it would still be found cheaper in the UK. Having agreed to buy the scarf he just went on and on to buy more until I got angry and said if he didn’t shut up and take the money we would walk out of the shop without buying anything. He eventually got the message but it was the worst buying experience of my life.
After lunch we went for a lesson on miniature painting. This kind of painting was a speciality in that area so a lot of shops offered lessons and the one we chose was highly recommended by TripAdvisor. I knew Federika would have no trouble with it but I couldn’t see how it would work with me being one of the world’s worst drawers.
We were shown to the back of the shop and sat at a table where we were given a stack of pictures to choose from, the main ones being an elephant, a camel and a tiger. Federika chose the elephant and me the camel which looked like the easiest. I panicked when he threw us in the deep end by asking us to practise the outline on a piece of paper but after multiple rubbings out I was surprised that mine did look remotely like a camel rather than a smiling house which is what most of my drawings looked like. Then he gave us a small piece of silk each and we got to work.
I suppose the pressure of working on the real thing brought about a deterioration in my drawing and even Federika had a bit of trouble with hers. Fortunately, the teacher whose family had been doing it for generations did a few tweaks here and there and for the rest of the afternoon guided us through until two hours later when had finished and I must say I was thrilled to see how well I had turned out. 
While the paint was drying (it looked dry enough to me) we were advised to wait in the shop and take a look through the real articles which must be said were very good. Federika chose a few things and once again there was a lot of hard upselling but we finally agreed on a beautiful little piece painted on camel bone with resin which was made to look like ivory. 
Whilst packing for the holiday Federika and I had our usual argument about the size of luggage to take. Federika always said I shouldn’t take a big suitcase as we should travel light and then I always said that at the end of all our holidays, I had a problem closing my large suitcase because of all the stuff we had bought. Our record was returning from Peru with four suitcases each weighing 32 kilos and a lot of hand luggage. There we were in the first week of our holiday when already my large suitcase was overflowing and at its weight limit. It brought to mind some elderly guests who stayed with us once who were on a three-month tour of Europe with each carrying only a small cabin bag.
That night we asked the hotel to book us a taxi to the airport and agreed on a price of 800 rupees. Later one of the young men at reception asked if I would give him 500 rupees as a deposit and was taken back when I refused. It was obvious that he intended to keep the 500 rupees for himself and give the driver the remaining 300. His boss told us not to worry about the deposit but as the taxi was not allowed to come to the door they would help us with our luggage to a spot just a few yards away where the taxi could go. Next morning the young man came for our luggage as agreed. It was very hot and as my full suitcase had only three wheels he had to drag it along the ground which he did whilst talking nonstop on his phone. We must have walked over a kilometre which I was sure was because the young man had some kind of fiddle going on where he kept most of the taxi fare. We finally met up with a grumpy taxi driver in an old banger with no A/C which was obviously not a licenced taxi but by this time a horse and cart would have been welcome.
As always, we got to the airport in plenty of time and on top of that there was an hour’s delay. It wasn’t a nice airport and although they appeared to have A/C it wasn’t switched on. At least there were plenty of chairs and the time passed quickly.
I should say at this point that although the places we had been to were dirty and noisy, we were both really enjoying ourselves and we always knew that India would not be a normal kind of holiday. The only thing that did bother me was the hard selling that was relentless although by a strange coincidence, every single salesperson offered “special prices.” What were the chances of that?
2018 India
