Climbing to Savitri

Sunday 20th April

- touring the lake
- the Savitri Temple

Gayitri's Temple (left) overlooking the North shore of Pushkar Lake.

a truly lousy night's sleep was the consequence of non-stop, tannoyed music from the Vishnu Temple next door, played at extraordinary volume from 9pm to 5am. we found out in the morning that it was essentially a wake for someone who had died. he must have accomplished a great deal in his life. the singer's voice was strong and powerful and cut through earplugs with ease. Phil also had some heatstroke issues, so all in all, it was a bit of a washout.

we were supposed to be off for the sunrise climb and view of Pushkar from the Savitri Temple, but there was no way that Phil was going to make it, since she'd had almost no sleep at all. instead, we went for an early morning walk around the much quieter South side of the lake and back along the main bazaar before the sun got too hot.

around Jaipur Ghat we were accosted by a 'priest' named Dharma into a celebration of tonight's full moon, which didn't auger well for a quiet evening's sleep! we explained that we had already enjoyed a Pushkar Puja, but he still went ahead with a ceremony that was a poor and distant cousin to that supplied by Nando. he even demanded an additional donation, which we had explained to him from the start that he wasn't going to get.

we walked across a bridge affording great views of the ghats clustered on the North shore. they were all busy, with a lot of holy men, beggars and locals giving thanks, washing or making their way to and from them.

the main bazaar in particular took on a more rush hour feel. before we arrived there, was passed another wedding procession, followed swiftly by a line of old women digging holes in the road with pickaxes under the sun. the men were, as usual, either undertaking the difficult task of manning shops or riding up and down the road on their motorbikes.

by the time we got back near our end of the bazaar it was fiercely hot. we grabbed a drink in what we think is the original Om Shiva, but it really wasn't much, so we went to the copycat again, which is cooler, has a far better location and a good menu. there was just time for a little clothes shopping before, with midday just past, the quietened streets indicated the onset of the hottest part of the day and we were driven back to our room in the guest house to escape. although we had no thermometer to confirm it, we would certainly believe that it's the hottest day we have had so far, but at least here in Rajasthan it's a dry heat. it was clearly not too hot for everyone, though - the large and decidedly odd-acting man in the adjacent room to us was actually sunbathing, which seemed to us like asking for trouble.

after several hours of hot and hazey pseudo-rest, we decided we'd have another crack at the Savitri Temple, at sunset rather than sunrise. after 5pm, the sun's strength was beginning to wane and we should have just enough time to get up the hill and back down again before it got dark.

we walked down the full length of the main bazaar in the fading but still very bright sunlight. the people we met were all smiles and greetings this evening and the atmosphere was more light hearted. it would be a full moon tonight and it was also monkey god Hanuman's birthday, so there was a celebratory air about the place. we felt bad about not having a pressie to give. we found the road to the Savitri Temple very easily and were soon outside of town on a sandy road to the base of the hill.

Savitri, a river goddess, was Brahma's second wife, having missed the astrologically-important timing of her planned marriage day by taking too long to get ready. Brahma had to marry someone at that time, but the only person available was Gayitri, from the untouchable caste, who was quickly purified by being passed through the mouth of a cow. like you do. narked, Savitri cursed Brahma so that he would only be worshipped at Pushkar. she also cursed Gayitri's caste, so that they can only gain liberation after death if their ashes are scattered in the Lake (as were Ghandi's, although we was not from this caste himself).

all of which helps to explain why Savitri's hill and temple is way higher than Gayitri's, as a placation to the goddess. she must still be pissed. pilgrims also always climb her hill first. having now done so, we were both really pleased that we were unable to attempt the climb in the morning. even in the fading sun it was quite an effort, the first third paved steps and the remainder rock step-like levels, becoming quite steep and the top. black-faced monkeys observed our travails with bemused interest. we became more and more elevated from Pushkar, the town progressively encircled by high, ridged hills, irrigated lands and dense scrub. from this distance, the lake seemed a tiny, small puddle, ringed with whitewashed buildings, each with its own indistinct reflection.

we passed many Hindus going both up and down and only a few Westerners. everyone was finding it really tough, while many of the Indian pilgrims were struggling up in unshod feet.

the red dots are Hindus ascending.

when we finally made it to the top, some 60 minutes or so later, the views were more than worth all of the effort, although we were both exhausted. almost stereotypically, a small and finely bearded old man, possibly a Sadhu, was sitting peacefully cross legged on a rock at the top. eyes twinkling, he acknowledged our arrival with a barely perceptible movement of the head and a face filled with good natured humour. either that or he was stoned.

Edd with sadhu leprechaun in his ear.

as we had read, the temple itself is a fairly shabby modern building, about which we're sure Savitri is not pleased. incongruously, the much older statue inside is ringed with flashing neon lights. far more preferable to drink in the massive vistas afforded by this matchless viewpoint before taking a slow and careful descent, sent on our way by another small nodding movement from the still otherwise motionless old man. aside from a few Hindi women making puja inside and the shrine keeper, our time at the top had been entirely silent and reflective.

well worth it.

the walk down was a slow and deliberate one, accompanied by chattering monkeys sitting in the tree branches and soundtracked by the incessant hurdy gurdy-like organ sound drifting up from a marriage procession somewhere in the village, which gave the descent a slightly hallucinatory, gameshow feeling. we only made it back into town as darkness was falling, tourist-laden camels at one point leading the way. very hot and sweaty due to our exertions, we bought some souvenirs for a change. one shop was full of old coin and shell jewellery and mirrored bags where we were the first customers. the boy running it blessed the room before dealing with the money. Philippa also picked up a lovely embroidered, mirrored hanging item from a stall we'd seen before, run by a Brahmin priest. we were also his first custom of the evening and he blessed the money we gave him.

the bazaar was busy with people, full of large numbers of cows and too many young men on fast motorbikes. another groom and wedding party went by, possibly the one we had heard on the hill, organ blaring out of loudspeakers, accompanied by drummers, wild dancing (men only) and a line either side of bright lights held by onlookers, all followed up by a van with a generator. a man was firing stones at monkeys scampering above food service areas with the aid of a catapult. elsewhere, people were celebrating Hanuman's birthday with their own events, music and colours.

surprisingly, we were Om Shiva's only customers, although it was only 8:20pm. it was at this time that we discovered the miracle of mixed fruit pancakes. we saw sunglasses man road up and down the narrow street below us on his pride and joy Royal Enfield numerous times; perhaps he had forgotten something. we walked the short distance home through the busy and boisterous but friendly streets. as the music from various sources crept into our courtyard, we ended a great evening sitting on our terrace while our legs recovered, very thankful indeed that we had not attempted the sunrise walk as originally planned. hopefully, Savitri would not be too disappointed.

hope this reaches all healthy and happy

edd & philippa {:-)

When Pushkar to Shove

Saturday 19th April

- the post office with no stamps and other exciting adventures!

another day, another wedding in Pushkar.

earplugged up, we had contrasting fortunes overnight. Edd managed 9 virtually unbroken hours of wonderful sleep, but Philippa was less fortunate, sleeping poorly and again unwell. we had the luxury of no fixed plans for the day, so we did not leave the room until closer to midday as Phil finally slept and recovered. she professed to be up for venturing out later, so we strode out to a particularly hot day in search of a post office to send off some postcards.

the post office allegedly around the corner proved to be invisible, so a prolonged search for the town's GPO was instigated. after much up and down and side to side we finally found it, although they had run out of stamps and had to send someone out to get them from somewhere. always good for a post office, running out of stamps. the entire GPO seemed to be run out of a tin box behind the desk, rather ramshackle and cobbled together but, like India itself, it just about seemed to work.

traffic, Puskhar style

we found the main bazaar again in about four minutes on the way back, of course. we had a bit of a browse, but it was now tiringly hot, so we cashed in a few more guest house room hours, allowing Phil to get some more sleep and energy.

Hindu temple - no cows allowed inside!

on the way back, the same young teenage boy who has approached Edd every time we've walked along it and pestered him for food or money was at it again. Edd was finding it very tiring and was upset when we got back. it's impossible to give to everyone, and one's good natured and kind hearted principles take a pounding when you are asked so many times every day. we had invested and were investing so much in the country. furthermore, how was one to tell which of all those who asked was 'more' in need than the other? was the young boy who runs along behind you and asks for 2 Rupees more deserving than the old woman who sits on a box with our arm outstretched? it was a quandary born of Western principals and living, but in India the reality of the situation can become quite overwhelming.

street scene, Pushkar

we spent the early evening strolling the bazaar under the rays of the dying sun. Edd bought a new, second pair of sunglasses from a man who was actually selling embroidered elephant and bird mobiles, but who also had an unadvertised sideline in eyewear we discovered after a chance discussion about his shades. twice in the evening the 'I've only got X Rupees on me' technique was used to good deal-closing effect. the streets seemed notably more relaxed than in the day. we also bumped into our Pushkar Puja water ceremony priest, Nandoo.

the bazaar is full of a lot more Westernised hippy stuff, but it's also got a good range of products of all types of Indian crafts, despite the more touristy angle. we had dinner - good and well priced - at Om Shiva down the road, where we'd earlier had a snack. we may try for a sunrise over Pushkar as seen from the Savitri Temple tomorrow, on the summit of a steep nearby hill reckoned to be an hour's climb.

the Savitri Temple (it's the one on the top of the hill)

today has been slow and relaxed, in keeping with making sure that Philippa was OK and that we didn't go mad in the burning sun. off season as we are, it's an easy place to relax.

best

edd & philippa

A postcard from Pushkar

Saturday 19th April

dear all

just a short note to apologise for all of you who are waiting to see some of our photos. we have not yet figured out how to transfer photos direct from the cameras to the blog, even though Edd has his instructions (!), and have not yet burned any to disc. apologies! we have taken some, really we have - Edd is almost on 1,000 images - but we may find it easier to put them on in a few batches, especially if we get them on CD first.

we are still in Pushkar, having a slower pace of life. it's getting really hot as we go further north and west, with Bikaner to come soon and then maybe Jaisalmer - which we know will be extremely hot by the time we get there. and we're still functioning with all of our limbs intact, although Edd's sunglasses have decided to fall apart.

our very best to anyone reading

edd & philippa

Pushkar Puja

Friday 18th April

- the road to Pushkar
- Pushkar Puja

we rose early after a fairly decent sleep, our 'air cooled' room using some form of fan with water beneath attached to the outside. it was certainly cooler than the AC in our other room, which we had struggled a little with previously. we breakfasted on honey toast, mango shakes and a grilled cheese and onion sandwich - cracking stuff, if not exactly Indian. the Pearl Palace is clearly aimed squarely at Westerners, with notes about its safely cleaned food, the dangers of befriending strangers and so on in its literature. Sikh owned, it has a degree of the same sense of brisk efficiency that we came across at Colonel Lamba's, although the main guy at reception seems to have wandered in from a more slippery, less salubrious establishment.

we checked out - still with no cast-iron guarantee of a room on Monday - and walked the short distance to where our bus would be departing. when we finally boarded, only the Westerners were demanded to pay a 'luggage fee,' another example of squeezing money out of tourists at every opportunity. one Indian-familied Israeli did not have to pay such a fee because he looked Indian and spoke Hindi. to dwell on such matters would be to entirely spoil any trip here, but the near constant scams and 'foreigner surcharges' can begin to wear you down if you let them get to you. a hugely tall young Swiss guy named Adrian was one of our neighbours. on his fourth month in India and South East Asia, he pointed out that, to a degree, such charges are fair as we have more money than the locals. perhaps it is the way in which it is done that can rankle - the scrawny, rangy guy 'loading' our bags into the boot-style luggage area was an abrupt character who we nicknamed 'Burglar Bill' for his appearance. it was all too easy to conclude that we were paying to ensure that our bags arrived at our destination with us.

turbaned farmers with the usual overloaded trailer.

the three hour or so journey took in a lot of wide, motorway-style highway, filled as ever with gaudily-fronted Tata brand trucks and passing hostelries named reassuring things such as 'Hotel Decent.' at one comfort break stop the driving staff had breakfast cooked on open griddles, but the sheer weight of flies would have probably put us off even if we had been hungry. another Western couple on our bus (who spoke to no-one else during the journey) were being very touchy feely with each other, which is pretty much out of bounds public behaviour in India, especially outside of the major cities. all of the cafe stop customers stared rigidly and balefully at them, but they were either totally ignorant or just didn't care about the cultural sensibilities that they were trampling on.

one family who got on at the middle of a road had no seats due to what must have been overbooking, and what a sight they were, resplendent in forms of traditional Rajasthani dress. the man had a huge gold tasselled stretched ear-ring in each ear and was wearing surely impractical velvet, curly-toe embroidered slipper shoes, with socks! his wife was extraordinary; although relatively finger ring-less, she was covered in jewellery. toe rings, frilled silver ankle bracelets, a silver girdle-style belt fringed with lots of silver tassel, a gold etched necklace plate, bracelets at either end of solid forearm and upper arm metal sections that were just like armour, with fine edging and detailing, as well as earrings, a huge nose ring linked to her left ear with chain, all topped off with additional pieces that rested against her forehead and hidden beneath a green veil or shawl-style translucent cloth covered in silver sequins. although their children were wearing the universal clothes of the poor, they would have made a great family photograph had permission be sought and approved, but their mahogany faces were hard and emotionless. the wife had to stand for most of the journey while the husband sat and chatted with the drivers.

we picked up more than our fair share of flies at the comfort stop and they stayed with us all the way to Pushkar. we passed through Ajmer near the end of the journey, a hugely important Islamic shrine town and worldwide centre of pilgrimage marooned in a mostly non-Islamic area. arriving in Pushkar via a steep up and down ridge road, we were to our surprise and suspicion all dropped off at the 'wrong' end of town, necessitating a kilometre walk along its main bazaar with our packs on. the accommodation touts in this auto-rickshaw less town were ready and waiting for us and so thick it would have been useful to have a stick with which to beat them off, and also appropriate, since some were needlessly aggressive.

we came upon the main bazaar (street) in the middle of a wedding procession, the apparent groom somewhat sombre looking and upon a white horse decorated with special saddle, bridle and wearing a beaded lattice around its neck.

the bazaar seemed to have a lot of Westerners browsing among its many stalls, one from every part of India along its whole length, apparently quite a change from years past. we found our Shyam Krishna Guest House just along from the Hindu-only Vishnu Temple. after the noise and madness of the main bazaar, this quiet courtyard of blue-washed former palace buildings was a real haven, the rooms basic, simple and clean - perfect. no mod cons, but R250 a night in total - that's about 2.75 pounds. the owner speaks little English and the check-in requires so much information that we would not have been surprised to see it also include inside leg measurement and first pet's name, but it is family run (they live in the central building), family friendly and a bit of an oasis.

we settled in briefly and then set out to find the location of our Monday departure bus - mercifully, it appears to be at our end of town.

apart from two wheeled forms of transport, the small town is peaceful compared to the cities in which we have so far stayed.

a typical Indian scene; man with horse, temple and ancient Ambassador car, which is one of the most common you will see on the roads.

main bazaar, Pushkar

lots of stalls and clearly Western-focused places, plus a lot of ceremonial daggers for sale. one isolated man seemed to be selling large buds of marijuana in plain view in the street, an odd and suspicious sight since it's illegal here just as much as anywhere else in India, unless you are a Sadhu. in fact, there were lots of orange and white-clad holy men here, too, seeking alms - and probably much else besides.

towers of dye for sale, Pushkar bazaar

the main reason everyone comes to Pushkar is its lake, surrounded by whitewashed temples and connected to the water by ghats, where offerings and prayers are made and ashes scattered (as were Ghandi's). Lord Brahma, the creator, is said to have made the desert magically fill with the lake and the entire pantheon of Hindu deities was once summoned here, all 900,000 of them. it's also one of the only Indian places with a temple to Brahma, strangely.

Pushkar - the lake and ghats, with the Savitri Temple on the hill in the background

all visitors foreign and Indian alike are encouraged to make Pushkar Puja, to worship with local Brahmin priests at one of the ghats, repeat prayers while scattering rose petals and make a donation that goes towards temple funds or for the dependent priest. as we were already being given rose petals by all and sundry, we thought we'd get it over with. we took the shortest route to the lake, which had been hidden from us by the buildings of the main bazaar. small and beautiful, it's mainly the North shore that is chock-full of white buildings and their attendant ghats, with people giving thanks, making offerings and ritually bathing all around. although we would not have picked him for a priest, more of a businessman, the richly throated Nandoo led us through the detailed and intricate ceremony, involving a lot of rose petals, chanting, rice and sugar offerings to Brahma (he has a sweet tooth like all Indians, it would seem) and prayers said for us and for our families.

the ghats at Pushkar

the blessing ceremony was quite spiritually moving and carried an emotional weight, regardless of one's personal predilections. it's the one and only time you are expected to go through the process on your visit, so sometimes you get - shall we say - interesting stories of previous donation amounts, as we did. but the amount you give was and should be of your choosing. at the conclusion of the ceremony on painfully hot stones (because no shoes are allowed on the ghats), a coloured (usually red) thread is tied around your wrist, indicating that you have made your one blessing and donation. since it was the same colour as the one we had got at Galta, we could potentially have not gone through the process at all! however, that would have meant missing out on the experience itself.

Edd and 'priest' Nandoo. they make priest at an early age in Puskhar, clearly.

we spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in our new home and escaping the attentions of many of the town's excitable children. we also - well, Philippa mostly - did our best to save Edd's sunglasses, which disassembled themselves for no apparent reason earlier in the day. in the evening, we ate nearby as the earlier wedding hit full steam. this involved an enormous amount of noise, drumming, organ music and large fireworks being detonated very close to the ground.

we spoke to an outgoing Western man at dinner on his fourth but final Indian trip. he spoke about how the country had changed and how it was more money-grabbing and Disnified in terms of its culture, about how everything was now set up to try and be like the West. we agreed with a lot of what he was saying but found him relentlessly negative about India. Hinduism and the people in this huge country. he even went as far to say that the guidebooks were deliberately out to make it sound better than it was and the friends of ours who had been many times and had differing views from his must be at least mistaken, if not lying. we have found aspects of our trip so far trying and irritating, certainly, but it was difficult to agree with his downbeat sentiments. perhaps if we had been to India previously, and not recently, we might have found more with which to agree.

we went home and to bed, with Phil feeling tired and not altogether well. the sound of the drums and fireworks hardly lulled us to sleep, but it did provide a heady aural backdrop on which to reflect on the day's diverging viewpoints and experiences. it is very easy to be cynical and see everyone in India as being out for your money. it is also easy to see the good nature of so many of the people we had met. clearly both Indias exist side by side. there was much to think about, for sure, but our abiding memory of the day was watching rose petals drifting on the surface of the water.

love

edd & philippa

Sanganer

Thursday 17th April

- textile printing, paper making and block printing - Sanganer's ancient arts.

we had to move rooms today due to the Pearl Palace's incoming bookings, although they have been less than certain about our return date on Monday 21st. we enjoyed a breakfast upstairs again, very simple and pleasant indeed. we're off to Sanganer today, now a distant suburb but once a separate village and the true home of block printing and paper making in the region. this is true both historically and also in the present, as rising population and water consumption has forced many artisans out of Jaipur.

it was almost inevitable that Yusef would be waiting for us and, sure enough, his smiling face rounded the last hotel wall before we'd reached the road. we bartered for the journey and he probably did quite well out of us, not least because we were in his hands as to where to go in Sanganer.

a half hour rickshaw ride later through some of the busiest Jaipur streets we had seen ended with an unexpected but revealing several hours' tour through a textile factory, paper plant and block printing centre. all were, of course, designed to lead us to buy products from same, but each constituted a genuine tour and was well worth the attached purchasing inference.

the textile part was a sizeable operation, bordered by orange saris of countless hues drying in the sun and under the feet of the odd camel.

we were led through the process with the fabric - mostly cotton - bleached, washed, dried and used in a whole host of ways. the environs were a combination of flowing, drape-like sheets waving in the breeze from hanging racks and coils of cloth being soaked in tanks.

the men seemed to do the washing while the women did the rest.

then on to the paper factory, which used cotton pulp for the paper. lots of big machines with no safety rails, while the woman in charge was clearly not one to be messed with! it was strange seeing Christmas wrapping and accoutrements bound for Europe being made in front of you in an Indian factory in April. we made a few purchases before being escorted to Philippa's favourite part, the block printing area.

this was the most engaging aspect of the tours. we'd been shown the mass production saris being printed by men working in teams of two at considerable speed, but the block printing was more of an artisan craft than a manufacturing process. it also appeared to be family run, using - of all things - old horse shoes soaked in molasses to form the base of the pigments. the centre runs three day courses for the interested. an incredibly wiry master craftsman put on a great display of the art, inviting us to put the finishing 'tocky tocky' touches to banging down the pigment-laden woodblocks.

we were told that he had 42 years' experience and, with his fluid movements and calm but very focused concentration, one could very easily believe it.

and so, to conclude - where else? - the shop. we spent a long time looking at potential items. Philippa picked up things for the flat, while Edd even managed to find something he liked, a Katha style embroidery jacket that fit everywhere! - except under the arms. the owner looked crestfallen, but so was Edd - maybe he'll make the next batch a little bigger.

surviving the sales pitch - wonder which one of these two didn't find anything that fit?

the prices in the shop were 'fixed,' both in terms of being non-negotiable and also probably in terms of being slightly shonky, but we were happy. we also got to see Yusef carrying around the bright pink bag containing our paper purchases, which looked rather fetching.

back at the hotel, we decided to send a load of additional things back in the post, since we had too much to carry with us in our small bags. we changed some money first at Thomas Cook, where one could not help but reflect that the armed guards at every such exchange are defending the contents with very long, old-style rifles - hardly practical for close combat with mischief makers or serious thieves.

sending the parcel was quite expensive and also something of a performance, as the items were hand-sewn into a cotton package before us, prior to the obligatory queue. line jumping was, as usual, frequently attempted and helps explain why people get so close to each other while waiting their turn.

we spent our final Jaipur night for a few days at least on the roof terrace of the Pearl Palace, watching bats swoop and change direction at speed while trying to ignore the two genuinely poor musicians who constituted the evening's entertainment. they had decided to park themselves next to our table and wail or mumble along to some very dubious sounding 'traditional' songs. as seems to happen every night in Jaipur, fireworks were going off across the city. we went to bed early, hoping to squeeze a breakfast in before checking out and getting our coach to Pushkar. it had been a fun day - no ancient sites for Edd (!), but plenty of ancient skills and a welter of colours and textures, like India itself.

stay in touch!

edd & philippa

Look Back In Amber

Wednesday 16th April

- Amber palace
- Anokhi Museum of Textile Design
- Jaigarh Fort

an earlier start than yesterday, as we planned a trip several kilometres North to visit Amber, the palace, fort and town that was previously the seat of power in these them parts before Jai Singh II moved the capital to the newly created Jaipur, the first such regional capital not to be based around a fortified defence. skipping breakfast and with no sign of Yusef for a barter for the journey, it was someone else's turn to be Driver of the Day (DOTD).

the first to step up to the plate started quoting silly prices and thus had his thunder stolen by Ravi, a pint-size, moustache-sporting rascal with more than a little twinkle in the eye and never in too much of a hurry to slow down and cast a glance over the passing ladies. it took us a while, but we eventually realised that he bore more than a passing resemblance to a short, Indian Des Lynam.

Amber lies 11 km North of Jaipur and Ravi took us across the top of the North walls of the city, full of small streets crowded with animals, vehicles and trash. the road runs beneath steep hills crowned by the Nahargarh fortress, whose long ramparts trip along their spine before ending in an embattlement emblazoned with a giant swastika high above us.

passing the Water Palace that we had seen the previous day, we noticed that there was another waterside complex of impressive buildings to one side of the lake. Amber and its sights lie further up the hill still and, during our day's rickshawing we noted a dead straight preserved grass boulevard with accompanying buildings that must once have linked it completely to the Water Palace, for whenever the maharajas felt like taking an air by the lake.

it was not long before Amber Palace itself appeared, flanked above and behind by the Jaigarh fort, the two presenting a solid face of ramparts, steep walls and winding paths in yellow and thick red sandstone respectively.

Jaigarh Fort and Amber Palace

in a natural space between craggy hills all around, a more defensible location would be hard to find. just walking up to its entrance along newer, twentieth century paths is an effort. you can also behave like a total and utter tourist and catch a gaudily decorated elephant up the route, but such a short distance for a fairly stiff fee seemed an easy opportunity to pass up, and we had already given some money towards the elephants' upkeep the day before (hopefully).

the palace is extensive and sprawling, although only a small portion of it is in excellent condition. that said, these sections are worth the trip alone. the Singh Pol (Lion Gate) and Ganesh Pol (er, Ganesh Gate) are both beautifully painted, the stone changing colour subtly as the sun rose higher.

Ganesh Pol

Ganesh Pol (detail)

Ganesh Pol (face in the window)

Mughal influences in the architecture can be seen in the arches and halls of public and private audience, the latter of which boasted walls and ceiling decorated with mosaics of mirror shards and coloured glass.

mirror fragment mosaic ceiling (detail)

intricate carved screen, Amber Palace, Jaipur

there was evidence here at least of attempts to restore the palace - a major tourist attraction - to something closer to its former glory, with teams of women transporting earth in baskets carried on their heads and men replanting and painting the palace's fountain-filled garden.

Indian man - hard at work

subtle

although we had been first in the queue for non-group bookings, it was not long before the quicker-visiting coach parties began to congregate in the major rooms. we managed to have our fill of them before they arrived and also to take our photographs at the exact spot immortalised on the cover of our Rough Guide to Rajasthan.

we then disappeared into the veritable warren of corridors, rooms and staircases that riddle the palace. the prettier basket-carrying women knew their potential and suggested photographs - for a fee, naturally.

one smiley security guard decided to show us the internal water tower. it was being restored and was absolutely full of bats, but the smell of guano was overpowering. he also directed us to the beehives hanging from the battlements, clearly just because he felt like it, beckoning us through a real labyrinth of secluded rooms and passageways.

on occasion, another latticed stone window would afford views of the steep, cobbled path up to the main gate, populated by progressively fewer elephants as the day heated up.

we half-attempted walking up to the Jaigarh fort, but it was a very steep climb of some duration and it was just too bright and hot, the total lack of anyone else on the path a good indicator of the sense of climbing up in the midday heat. we descended and renegotiated the cost of the day with Ravi, adding the Anokhi museum and site where they manufacture the block-printed products that we had seen in their shop in Jaipur as well as the Jaigarh fort to his itinerary.

we had a short hiatus trying to find fairly priced drinks. although the price is printed on all bottles, a common scam is to say that there is an Indian and a foreigner rate, as there is on entering monuments, or to claim additional charges for refrigeration, or a myriad of highly creative and unspecified 'taxes,' all of which are bogus. Ravi drove us through the quieter, narrower streets of the town to the Anokhi museum. meeting a cow in the road is an obstruction, but meeting an elephant in the road is a potential disaster.

Ravi steered us around those we met with some skill, even if - like Yusef - he seemed to find rickshaw driving a little too much like fun to worry about trifling concerns such as safety.

installed in an old haveli, the Anokhi museum was empty but for ourselves. it was good to see how extensive both the history of block printing and the museum itself were. a man in one corner of one room was busy carving out the wood blocks themselves, while another demonstrated the printing itself.

the range and variety of designs in the museum was far more involving and interesting than those in their Jaipur showroom.

traditional Rajasthani block printed smoking jacket. probably.

a small shop again failed to accommodate Edd's size, the shirts again too small or short. by this time, Ravi had wandered in and it's always something else to consider when your DOTD is playing literally close attention to the cost of everything you are looking at, especially when he has already suggested you go to his mate's textile shop. everyone in India knows someone who knows someone, and the commission rickshaw drivers get for guiding tourists to shops usually outstrips their journey fares - and are added to your purchase costs.

Amber, as viewed from the Anokhi Museum - a town of temples and palaces.

Jaigarh fort was our final destination, a punishing, sidewinding path up a gradient that the rickshaw almost failed to climb. now lunchtime, the heat was intense. the fort itself is a real beast, situated in a position that must have been impossible to surmount and with one end peering over the Amber palace below.

built in 1600, the emphasis is much more on impregnability than design, encapsulated but its immense Jaivana cannon, the largest in Asia.

the views from up here and down the valleys are quite stunning, with the Water Palace a hazy blip in its artificial lake, on one side of which we now saw for the first time was the red stone rampart damn that had originally created it.

most of the fort is empty, now, and seems to be entirely covered with scratched graffiti. we've seen many signs at key sites politely asking people not to do this and there is even a television ad campaign. likewise, even up here the fort suffered from the same garbage and litter blight as the rest of the country. but, with a third of the country in poverty, historic site upkeep and litter are never going to be key considerations for a great many people.

the only guard we encountered here tried to sternly shunt us the way of a 'tips please' puppet show, the antithesis of his counterpart in the Amber palace. the displays and collections of the fort disappointed, but the hugely dramatic vistas kept on coming. when we reached the high rampart walls overlooking the palace, a verdant green enclosed garden area magically appeared, as refreshing as a cool drink.

Amber Palace, from the Jaigarh fort

we managed to steer ourselves around almost the entire fort before finding Ravi again. we gently coasted all the way down the hill road through gravity alone as he was low on fuel, which made avoiding the oncoming traffic something of a challenge. with vertiginous drops on many a bend, it was hardly a surprise that he considered it one of 'India's most dangerous roads.'

on the way back, as expected and acquiesced, we stopped off at a textile emporium known to Ravi. the owner - rather improbably named 'Aladdin' - showed us their workshop, allowing us to add strong solvents and gold paint to the bat guano Legionnaire's lungful cocktail for the day. a protracted display of products and much snake oil patter then followed, deflated somewhat by Philippa indicating sotto voce that several descriptions Aladdin gave of materials and prints weren't at all accurate. Ravi slumped nearby, looking a combination of tired, bored and hopeful. it's a very tough way to make a living, particularly when your ride doesn't see anything they want to buy.

our journey back took in the Northern roads once more, whose guttered roads were awash with piles of garbage and herds of pigs rooting contentedly around in the filth. cows flicked dust over themselves while donkeys laden with brick-filled saddlebags stumbled in the road ahead, Ravi almost driving straight into several of them.

we got back to the hotel eight hours after we left to find Yusef parked outside and visibly disappointed not to have caught our fare. we took the afternoon and evening easy, reflecting on the impressive range and marvellous variety of a rich and enjoyable day.

edd & philippa