If I am to be reincarnated as a cow, can I please come back as an Indian one? Not only are you very beautiful with huge almond-shaped eyes and you are unlikely to become a beef burger but it is the responsibility of the village to make sure you are fed and happy. Perfect.
I am in Udaipur, white city surrounded by man-made lakes, remarkable engineering for the late 1500s. Here, in South Rajasthan, we are surrounded by mountains and the valleys are green, freshing to the relentless desert from where we have just come. Jaisalmer was yellow, Jodhpur was blue and Udaipur is white, its palace resembles a wedding cake, appropriate seeing as people flock from all over the world to be married here. It is also famously the set of 'Octopussy' and you are not allowed to forget it!
Last night we saw some classic Rajasthani dancing, lots of swirling of skirts by plump ladies and the provocative clanging of bells by a girl with the most come-hither eyes I have ever seen. All set in a beautiful Haveli, very picturesque.
This morning we went horse riding on some beautiful Indian horses around the lakes and through some little farming villages and tonight I strike on alone to Jaipur via sleeper bus, so the adventure continues...
I am writing this is a fabric shop, the is a scramble every time a tourist wanders past and idly runs their hands along the cloth hanging outside
"Yes, yes, come inside please, much more in side, come inside please, no need to buy, only look." It is amazing how quickly you become deaf to these merchants, desperate to make a sale. Fortunately I feel it is my moral obligation to distribute wealth and shop... so shoes I think.
Next post Jaipur. xxx
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
Jodhpur, the blue city, home of one of the largest fort in Rajasthan and namesake of those stupid riding britches warn by the british aristocracy... Who would have thought it? But the Maharajas of Jodhpur were have always been keen polo player. The crown prince is still captain of the Jodhpur Polo Team.
But one thing at a time...
Yesterday evening Mieke and I had a rooftop dinner at Little Tibet (thank you Ellie, yes we did eat the momos) and returned to our little Paying Guesthouse, Ishar Palace. We sat and listened to Little Jonny's new Bangra tape in the room that he shares with his boss and the little boy who does all the cooking and I exchanged my watch for his, he was admiring mine so much.
What different lives they lead! Jonny is 19 and went to the village school for 8 months before he was expected to go into farming. He wished to learn English and so was adopted by the owner of Ishar Palace where he has been working hard for the past 5 years. He sees his parents little more than once a year, although they live in a village outside of Jaisalmere.
We retired to our very run down room, once the bedroom of the 19th Century Prime minister, set our alarms and slept the sleep of those who spent the previous night out in the desert.
Up early and onto a bus that rattled across the desert towards the rising sun and Jodhpur.
A hectic town after the tranquility of Jaisalmer, we bartered with an auto, avoided the hotel touts and checked into Hare Krishna Guesthouse, recommended to us by our friends at Ishar Palace.
We then set off through the winding narrow blue streets to explore Meherangarh, the huge fort built into the side of the hill towering over the town.
Another remarkable place, again the intricate carvings and cool courtyards calmly asserting the grandeur and authority of the Rathores. More turbulent history, although they profited from the willingness of the Mughals to associate with them peacefully. Shah Jehan's mother was a Rathor princess.
You can see how Rajasthan (Land of Kings) got its name. The forts and palaces erected by these proud people and the richness of their culture is apparent everywhere.
When I finally manage to find an internet cafe capable of uploading photographs I will be able to illustrate all of this!
Until then you'll just have to take my word for it.
Time almost for a cold drink on our shady roof... x
But one thing at a time...
Yesterday evening Mieke and I had a rooftop dinner at Little Tibet (thank you Ellie, yes we did eat the momos) and returned to our little Paying Guesthouse, Ishar Palace. We sat and listened to Little Jonny's new Bangra tape in the room that he shares with his boss and the little boy who does all the cooking and I exchanged my watch for his, he was admiring mine so much.
What different lives they lead! Jonny is 19 and went to the village school for 8 months before he was expected to go into farming. He wished to learn English and so was adopted by the owner of Ishar Palace where he has been working hard for the past 5 years. He sees his parents little more than once a year, although they live in a village outside of Jaisalmere.
We retired to our very run down room, once the bedroom of the 19th Century Prime minister, set our alarms and slept the sleep of those who spent the previous night out in the desert.
Up early and onto a bus that rattled across the desert towards the rising sun and Jodhpur.
A hectic town after the tranquility of Jaisalmer, we bartered with an auto, avoided the hotel touts and checked into Hare Krishna Guesthouse, recommended to us by our friends at Ishar Palace.
We then set off through the winding narrow blue streets to explore Meherangarh, the huge fort built into the side of the hill towering over the town.
Another remarkable place, again the intricate carvings and cool courtyards calmly asserting the grandeur and authority of the Rathores. More turbulent history, although they profited from the willingness of the Mughals to associate with them peacefully. Shah Jehan's mother was a Rathor princess.
You can see how Rajasthan (Land of Kings) got its name. The forts and palaces erected by these proud people and the richness of their culture is apparent everywhere.
When I finally manage to find an internet cafe capable of uploading photographs I will be able to illustrate all of this!
Until then you'll just have to take my word for it.
Time almost for a cold drink on our shady roof... x
I love camels! Aside from the immense pain that they inflict on the sit-upon, they are just lovely. With their long fluttery eyelashes and complaisant, slightly bemused grins, pondering no doubt on some complex philosophy.
I am composing this in Jaisalmer (composing because the internet refuses to access my blog). I arrived yesterday after the long long journey from Delhi.
Before boarding the train in Delhi I took tea, as you do, with the wife of the danish ambassador. What a contrast that cool, marble villa was to the rest of the noise and chaos just outside its guarded and alarmed gate! Servants scuttling to and fro, tea brought with home made cakes and served with spotless silver. Wow. Zareen, was
very nice and insisted that I ate as many as I could. "The chef is not so good at sweets but you must eat."The train pulled into Jaisalmer and I stumbled, blinking, off the bus into the dusty desert heat. I was harranged on all sides by a feeding frenzy of hoteliers and auto drivers, pushing and pulling me this way and that. "Hey lady, you come with me, I know very good hotel, good price..." Mieke, my new travel companion had already found a hostel and organised for me to be met at the station so I my relief I suddenly heard:
"Katie? Are you Katie?" and a young guy called Little Jonny bounded up and whisked me away from the chaos on the back of his motorbike with me balanced precariously sidesaddle desperately trying to counteract the weight of my rucksack. He took me high up into the fort, where I committed the tourist blunder of aquiring a large burn on my calf muscle from the exhaust. Yes I know, all the warning in the world and I still did it.
Jaisalmer is the closest you can get to a living and breathing sandcastle. In the middle of nowhere, and with no access to water, it seems an unlikely place to choose to build a forte. But it's elevated position and links to Pakistan make it an important asset politically (both historically and recently). It is the only living and breathing fort surviving and is still very much a functioning town, although tourism seems to be the biggest industry for them now. The fort sadly crumbling due to an outdated irrigation system and the introduction of a modern water system but a great deal of it remains including the exquisite havelis built by rich trading merchants and magnificent the royal palace. The entire city is built in yellow sandstone which is carved into delicate lace-like patterns - Mum, Humayun's tomb eat your heart out! The pictures I've taken will hopefully illustrate better than I can
describe...
Jaisalmer has had a bloody history and has been under siege many times. Only 3 times, however, was the siege successful. When defeat became inevitable the people of Jaisalmer chose death over dishonor and committed 'Johur': Mass suicide with the women, dressed in their finery committing themselves to the flames and then men, adorned in saffron turbans, swords gleaming would ride out for final battle and certain death. Such was their pride.
Our hostel, in the old forte, was basic but full of character. The friendly staff persuaded me to grab a camel and try and catch up with my friends, who had left on the camel safari that morning. Well why not? So I sprang (athletically) onto a camel and trotted my way across the dunes (ouch - I'm still waddling) at quite a rate. My guide was as amused at the idea of me surprising them with my arrival as I was so we made sure that I arrived before sunset. They were indeed surprised and we celebrated by drinking the sun down with Kingfisher beer. A lovely night around the campfire and not such a good sleep due to cold and sand but the sunrise and early morning camel trek back to base was worth it. Really, my camel was so charming and flirtatious with her big brown eyes that I could never have resisted her charms, although she seemed a tad aloof and bore my presence with an air of indifference.
We spent the rest of the day shopping and pottering around the forte, admiring the havelis. The boys then bid Miekel and me farewell and trudged to the station to catch the 19 hour train back to Delhi for work, leaving Miekel and I to explore the rest of
Rajasthan a deux. We leave for Jodhpur early tomorrow morning so
I'll try and update you all properly from there.
I am composing this in Jaisalmer (composing because the internet refuses to access my blog). I arrived yesterday after the long long journey from Delhi.
Before boarding the train in Delhi I took tea, as you do, with the wife of the danish ambassador. What a contrast that cool, marble villa was to the rest of the noise and chaos just outside its guarded and alarmed gate! Servants scuttling to and fro, tea brought with home made cakes and served with spotless silver. Wow. Zareen, was
very nice and insisted that I ate as many as I could. "The chef is not so good at sweets but you must eat."The train pulled into Jaisalmer and I stumbled, blinking, off the bus into the dusty desert heat. I was harranged on all sides by a feeding frenzy of hoteliers and auto drivers, pushing and pulling me this way and that. "Hey lady, you come with me, I know very good hotel, good price..." Mieke, my new travel companion had already found a hostel and organised for me to be met at the station so I my relief I suddenly heard:
"Katie? Are you Katie?" and a young guy called Little Jonny bounded up and whisked me away from the chaos on the back of his motorbike with me balanced precariously sidesaddle desperately trying to counteract the weight of my rucksack. He took me high up into the fort, where I committed the tourist blunder of aquiring a large burn on my calf muscle from the exhaust. Yes I know, all the warning in the world and I still did it.
Jaisalmer is the closest you can get to a living and breathing sandcastle. In the middle of nowhere, and with no access to water, it seems an unlikely place to choose to build a forte. But it's elevated position and links to Pakistan make it an important asset politically (both historically and recently). It is the only living and breathing fort surviving and is still very much a functioning town, although tourism seems to be the biggest industry for them now. The fort sadly crumbling due to an outdated irrigation system and the introduction of a modern water system but a great deal of it remains including the exquisite havelis built by rich trading merchants and magnificent the royal palace. The entire city is built in yellow sandstone which is carved into delicate lace-like patterns - Mum, Humayun's tomb eat your heart out! The pictures I've taken will hopefully illustrate better than I can
describe...
Jaisalmer has had a bloody history and has been under siege many times. Only 3 times, however, was the siege successful. When defeat became inevitable the people of Jaisalmer chose death over dishonor and committed 'Johur': Mass suicide with the women, dressed in their finery committing themselves to the flames and then men, adorned in saffron turbans, swords gleaming would ride out for final battle and certain death. Such was their pride.
Our hostel, in the old forte, was basic but full of character. The friendly staff persuaded me to grab a camel and try and catch up with my friends, who had left on the camel safari that morning. Well why not? So I sprang (athletically) onto a camel and trotted my way across the dunes (ouch - I'm still waddling) at quite a rate. My guide was as amused at the idea of me surprising them with my arrival as I was so we made sure that I arrived before sunset. They were indeed surprised and we celebrated by drinking the sun down with Kingfisher beer. A lovely night around the campfire and not such a good sleep due to cold and sand but the sunrise and early morning camel trek back to base was worth it. Really, my camel was so charming and flirtatious with her big brown eyes that I could never have resisted her charms, although she seemed a tad aloof and bore my presence with an air of indifference.
We spent the rest of the day shopping and pottering around the forte, admiring the havelis. The boys then bid Miekel and me farewell and trudged to the station to catch the 19 hour train back to Delhi for work, leaving Miekel and I to explore the rest of
Rajasthan a deux. We leave for Jodhpur early tomorrow morning so
I'll try and update you all properly from there.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
For some reason known only to them, they are threatoning to deport my proposed travel companion! Really, the cheek of it. Poor Kate has spent the last 4 days queing, begging, getting things signed, countersigned and photo copied only to be told that they've opened a police investigation on her as her visa status is dubious. Dear oh dear. Seeing as she may have to go to Nepal on Wednesday the Jaipur trip just didn't seem feasable.
So, as it always seems to be the way when travelling, I suddenly find myself booked on a 19 hour sleeper train to Jaisalmer tonight instead to meet a group of Dutch people, fresh from camel riding! Such is life...
Consequently I'll be off line for a while but obviously reachable by phone (and greatful for any time killing messages I'm sure)
Next post: Jaisalmer! x
So, as it always seems to be the way when travelling, I suddenly find myself booked on a 19 hour sleeper train to Jaisalmer tonight instead to meet a group of Dutch people, fresh from camel riding! Such is life...
Consequently I'll be off line for a while but obviously reachable by phone (and greatful for any time killing messages I'm sure)
Next post: Jaisalmer! x
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
It is getting hot! My nose is turning that fetching shade of tomato.
Nizamuddin, an area surrounding the shrine of revered Shaykh Nizam-ud-din, and apparently great for spicy goat kebabs, was too chaotic for me in the heat of the day on Tuesday so I ducked into the calm and perfect Delhi antidote, the Lodi gardens. Beautifully maintained, cool and shady I could sit, unharrassed, in between the crumbling tombs of Sayyid and Lodi rulers (1433-1526). Everything was once again tranquil and right with the world.
Yesterday morning, as is my custom now, I got lost in the labyrinth of Connaught Place, wandering round and round, cursing the streets for all looking the same. Once again I was impressed with how polite and helpful people are here, an old man came over and bartered with an auto for me, another young guy escorted me to a book shop (and then went away!) and people are always keen to point out information centres, and warn me off scammers. I think perhaps it is mainly curiosity. I am a constant figure of interest, children nudge each other as I pass, girls in there late teens smile shyly and ask to have their photo taken with me - consequently there might be photos of a very confused Katie adorning people's mantel pieces - and men approach me firing relentless questions. I was surprised, Delhi ought to be accustomed to the sight of 'Britishers' by now, but I still turn heads.
In the afternoon I went to see the Red Fort the crumbling momento to the Swan Song of the Mughal rule, built by Shah Jehan over 10 years completing in 1648. It was demonstrative of the absolute and overwhelming power that the Mughal rule had represented. That the power was beginning to slip only fueled the determination to exaggerate it, therefore, the court of Shah Jehan, for all its corruption, was one of the most elaborate and mannered of Mughal rule. As Dalrymple puts it:
"[The Red Fort is} part of a great Imperial Mughal ego trip."
What remains now, however, is rather apologetic in comparison. Although the beautiful marble buildings of Diwan-i-khas (hall of private audience), the royal baths and Shah Jehan's private quarters remain, the Fort is a shadow of itself.
The fountains and waterways run dry, the luxurious pleasure gardens have been firmly replaced by regimented British lawns, on the north side of the Fort are erected hideous grey British army barracks and where the great Peacock Throne once sat is now a roosting spot for pigeons. The palace of Shah Jehan's favorite daughter Jahanara is now a half hearted museum. The overall impression is that of emptiness. Any mystique was stamped out by the stiff-lipped colonialists belonging to Her Majesty.
Hey ho.
On a more frivolous note, we had another party last night...
I am constantly struck by how interesting and clever my fellow travellers and the interns are I meet here. Dutch, Belgiums, Germans, New Zealanders, all of whom have such a passion for India. I have been made to feel very guilty for only staying for 3 weeks and have a list as long as my arm of places that I must visit on my return, which was intention I guess.
Talking to these people I feel as if my eyes are opened again, as if I've just woken up. A perfect preface to my own explorations...
Nizamuddin, an area surrounding the shrine of revered Shaykh Nizam-ud-din, and apparently great for spicy goat kebabs, was too chaotic for me in the heat of the day on Tuesday so I ducked into the calm and perfect Delhi antidote, the Lodi gardens. Beautifully maintained, cool and shady I could sit, unharrassed, in between the crumbling tombs of Sayyid and Lodi rulers (1433-1526). Everything was once again tranquil and right with the world.
Yesterday morning, as is my custom now, I got lost in the labyrinth of Connaught Place, wandering round and round, cursing the streets for all looking the same. Once again I was impressed with how polite and helpful people are here, an old man came over and bartered with an auto for me, another young guy escorted me to a book shop (and then went away!) and people are always keen to point out information centres, and warn me off scammers. I think perhaps it is mainly curiosity. I am a constant figure of interest, children nudge each other as I pass, girls in there late teens smile shyly and ask to have their photo taken with me - consequently there might be photos of a very confused Katie adorning people's mantel pieces - and men approach me firing relentless questions. I was surprised, Delhi ought to be accustomed to the sight of 'Britishers' by now, but I still turn heads.
In the afternoon I went to see the Red Fort the crumbling momento to the Swan Song of the Mughal rule, built by Shah Jehan over 10 years completing in 1648. It was demonstrative of the absolute and overwhelming power that the Mughal rule had represented. That the power was beginning to slip only fueled the determination to exaggerate it, therefore, the court of Shah Jehan, for all its corruption, was one of the most elaborate and mannered of Mughal rule. As Dalrymple puts it:
"[The Red Fort is} part of a great Imperial Mughal ego trip."
What remains now, however, is rather apologetic in comparison. Although the beautiful marble buildings of Diwan-i-khas (hall of private audience), the royal baths and Shah Jehan's private quarters remain, the Fort is a shadow of itself.
The fountains and waterways run dry, the luxurious pleasure gardens have been firmly replaced by regimented British lawns, on the north side of the Fort are erected hideous grey British army barracks and where the great Peacock Throne once sat is now a roosting spot for pigeons. The palace of Shah Jehan's favorite daughter Jahanara is now a half hearted museum. The overall impression is that of emptiness. Any mystique was stamped out by the stiff-lipped colonialists belonging to Her Majesty.
Hey ho.
On a more frivolous note, we had another party last night...
I am constantly struck by how interesting and clever my fellow travellers and the interns are I meet here. Dutch, Belgiums, Germans, New Zealanders, all of whom have such a passion for India. I have been made to feel very guilty for only staying for 3 weeks and have a list as long as my arm of places that I must visit on my return, which was intention I guess.
Talking to these people I feel as if my eyes are opened again, as if I've just woken up. A perfect preface to my own explorations...
Monday, February 19, 2007
"Madam, today Red Fort is closed." Damn, with no 'home' between checking out of the YWCA and moving into 92C Vinopa Puri, Lajpat Najar I was wondering what I should do. Spoiled for choice of course. Seeing as I was already in the auto at this point I thought I might as well go there anyway and have a snoop around Old Delhi.
If you pick up an auto from outside a hotel, you are greeted by a very jolly driver with whom you negotiate a price. He will suggest a number of extended tours: "200 rupees, I take you round Dehli, show you very nice things."
"No, no thank you, just the Red Fort" He scratches his head and suddenly you are by the side of the road and being transfered to another, less jolly auto who will take you to your requested destination without questions. There must be some kind of hierarchy, those more industrious who are unwilling to take a single fare and pass them off to those who are less picky.
My replacement auto fought its way through increasingly chaotic streets towards Old Delhi. I was dropped off at the Red Fort in the midst of total mayhem. Cows, cars, autos, goats, hang on - was that an elephant?!
The actual body of Old Delhi stands concealed by what seems an inpenitrable wall of lop-sided shops and stalls. In between these stalls are small passagways leading into the very heart of the bazzar. I took a deep breath and plunged. Monday may not be the best day to plunge, being a national holiday, the market was in full flow.
"Lady like jewelry?", "Lady want sari?", "Come lady, you look in my shop?"
I made my way down these tiny narrow streets, above which a huge tangle of wires interweave with washing lines. Everything seemed to be decomposing into squalor. If you look carefully you can see some of the houses have old, ornate, decorative balconoys, cracked and chiped, plaster peeling and unsturdy with dirty curtains half hanging in the windows. Is this what is left of what Old Delhi must have been once? All the streets are cracked and the uneasy slant of the houses gives the impression that the whole place is sinking.
I wove my way from the electronics district - Delhi's answer to Tottenahm Court Road. Then the saris. Shop after shop of bright coloured cloth. Every so often a shaft of sunlight would force its way through wires, catching the mirrors and sequins and the whole narrow street would sparkle.
By some miracle, I stumbled across that which I was looking for: Jama Masjid. I very grudginly paid 200 rupees for the privelidge of having a camera and stepped barefooted into the mosque. A clam haven above the chaos.
Having onced again decended into the hot heaving sea of fumes, people and the over-powering smell of cooking oil I took a bicycle rickshaw ride through the central vein of Old Dehi, Chandni Chowk to the spice market where I wandered around getting lost and tiring myself out until I finally hailed an auto to take me to Connaught Place and Janpath Market in search of a belt.
I am now happily settled in Lajpat Najar, South Delhi, much more residential but very close to Central Market. We are on the ground floor and have a balcony so I shall now sit with a morning cup of tea and watch the thouroughfare of wallahs as they cycle by shouting their trade - this starts very early... Mum - thanks for the ear plugs! x
If you pick up an auto from outside a hotel, you are greeted by a very jolly driver with whom you negotiate a price. He will suggest a number of extended tours: "200 rupees, I take you round Dehli, show you very nice things."
"No, no thank you, just the Red Fort" He scratches his head and suddenly you are by the side of the road and being transfered to another, less jolly auto who will take you to your requested destination without questions. There must be some kind of hierarchy, those more industrious who are unwilling to take a single fare and pass them off to those who are less picky.
My replacement auto fought its way through increasingly chaotic streets towards Old Delhi. I was dropped off at the Red Fort in the midst of total mayhem. Cows, cars, autos, goats, hang on - was that an elephant?!
The actual body of Old Delhi stands concealed by what seems an inpenitrable wall of lop-sided shops and stalls. In between these stalls are small passagways leading into the very heart of the bazzar. I took a deep breath and plunged. Monday may not be the best day to plunge, being a national holiday, the market was in full flow.
"Lady like jewelry?", "Lady want sari?", "Come lady, you look in my shop?"
I made my way down these tiny narrow streets, above which a huge tangle of wires interweave with washing lines. Everything seemed to be decomposing into squalor. If you look carefully you can see some of the houses have old, ornate, decorative balconoys, cracked and chiped, plaster peeling and unsturdy with dirty curtains half hanging in the windows. Is this what is left of what Old Delhi must have been once? All the streets are cracked and the uneasy slant of the houses gives the impression that the whole place is sinking.
I wove my way from the electronics district - Delhi's answer to Tottenahm Court Road. Then the saris. Shop after shop of bright coloured cloth. Every so often a shaft of sunlight would force its way through wires, catching the mirrors and sequins and the whole narrow street would sparkle.
By some miracle, I stumbled across that which I was looking for: Jama Masjid. I very grudginly paid 200 rupees for the privelidge of having a camera and stepped barefooted into the mosque. A clam haven above the chaos.
Having onced again decended into the hot heaving sea of fumes, people and the over-powering smell of cooking oil I took a bicycle rickshaw ride through the central vein of Old Dehi, Chandni Chowk to the spice market where I wandered around getting lost and tiring myself out until I finally hailed an auto to take me to Connaught Place and Janpath Market in search of a belt.
I am now happily settled in Lajpat Najar, South Delhi, much more residential but very close to Central Market. We are on the ground floor and have a balcony so I shall now sit with a morning cup of tea and watch the thouroughfare of wallahs as they cycle by shouting their trade - this starts very early... Mum - thanks for the ear plugs! x
Sunday, February 18, 2007
"Really guys, 100 rupees (about 1 pound 20) is fine, honestly I just want to go home to bed!" We once again began the charade of arm flaiing, mock offence and disbelievement as we turned away from yet another auto driver.
"No no Katie, you can not! This is a 40 rupee journey, you must not teach them bad habits. If you pay too much we all have to pay too much, they can not get away with it. Now cmm'on man, you give me good price, this is not rich girl, she is poor student." I tried look falorn and not feel too guilty, the man driving the auto looked like he needed the extra 60p more than me. Finally one driver agreed to the journey for 50 rupees and I was allowed to go home.
That was last night. It is different of course for those attempting to live off Delhi wages like my companions, it is exhausting, this constant haggling and arguing, I fear I am a timid push over so far, I'll be a monster by the time I arrive back in the UK. Ellie, I will no longer tease you for trying to haggle with a London cabby!
So what have I been up to? Well I spent Saturday morning moochin and was picked up in the afternoon by Kartik who took me to Connaught Place, Kahn Market (were I had my 1st taste of street food - a little kebab shack covered in 'where to eat in Delhi reviews' YUM!) and then for a beer in Defence Colony, yes that is its name... an area of shops and restaurants. Nice to get away from the tourist hub. It is funny how smart, western shops, cafes and bars rise out of the comparitave flith and chaos of the rest of Delhi, there is claerly a market for them. I firmly drew the line at TGI Fridays and McDonalds.
Kartik then dropped me off at Kate's party as he had to go and visit a friend, so I settled in there for the night. There was a huge group of Europeans there, all working in Delhi or Agra and I was curious to know how they found India. The overall impression I got was that most feel towards Delhi as they might for an annoying sibling. It drives you crazy, you swear you hate it but deep down, when quizzed further you admit that deep down you love it dearly, for all its faults.
There was one Indian guy there who badgered me for a dance incessently. Finally I concided.
"You are most beautiful girl" blah blah blah, "where you coming from?"
"England, London"
"Ah! You are English! I have much respect for you, much respect!" He bent down and placed his forehead on my hands to illustrate the fact. "The English are a great country, you are great people, ruled over India for many years."
"Yes but we were not always that nice to you..."
"England great country, India would be better to be ruled by England again. Much respect for you, may God bless you and may you live a long life." He bowed.
The same guy was thrown out of the party later for poking the girls who had fallen asleep in the corner. Hmmm. But it is interesting none the less that an attitude like that still exists. In fact, whenever I tell anyone I'm from England they light up.
"England? Ah! Very good very good."
The party progressed like many do and got very silly, like many do. I'll upload some picks of weird o'clock when my memory card is full.
The next morning we all awoke bleerily and I remembered that I'd badgered a Dutch guy Walter into taking me to Humayun's tomb. Firsty I had to buy a mattress, I shall be moving in the flat as of today and needed something to sleep on. Thanks to some haggling on Walter's part I came back with one for about a fiver. I then set off to Humayun's tomb with 3 guys, affectionately known as my bitches.
The day was grey which means that my photos do not do it justice. It is very simialr to the Taj only much smaller and red sandstone instead of marble but impressive none the less. We wandered around through the crowds (I must go there in the morning!) Marveling 1st hand at what I'd seen in your pictures Mum, that lace-like stonework. Beautiful! There are some photos to follow.
We then ambled in search of coffee, only to remember that some had promised to go to a Spanish culture performance that evening. We autoed it over there pronto and sat through a rather painful speach by the Ambassador of Colombia followed by some rather wonderful Spanish dancing. I think I should say that Indians dancing the Salsa, although unexpected was a fantastic sight and they are very good at it!
Dinner out en mass afterwards and then the auto charade with which I began this account.
And that takes me to today, Monday. I will move in to the shared digs later and make much use of my ear plugs I'd imagine.
But for now I will find a cafe and sit with my lnely planet and decide what I shall do this week.
I hope you are all well. xxx
"No no Katie, you can not! This is a 40 rupee journey, you must not teach them bad habits. If you pay too much we all have to pay too much, they can not get away with it. Now cmm'on man, you give me good price, this is not rich girl, she is poor student." I tried look falorn and not feel too guilty, the man driving the auto looked like he needed the extra 60p more than me. Finally one driver agreed to the journey for 50 rupees and I was allowed to go home.
That was last night. It is different of course for those attempting to live off Delhi wages like my companions, it is exhausting, this constant haggling and arguing, I fear I am a timid push over so far, I'll be a monster by the time I arrive back in the UK. Ellie, I will no longer tease you for trying to haggle with a London cabby!
So what have I been up to? Well I spent Saturday morning moochin and was picked up in the afternoon by Kartik who took me to Connaught Place, Kahn Market (were I had my 1st taste of street food - a little kebab shack covered in 'where to eat in Delhi reviews' YUM!) and then for a beer in Defence Colony, yes that is its name... an area of shops and restaurants. Nice to get away from the tourist hub. It is funny how smart, western shops, cafes and bars rise out of the comparitave flith and chaos of the rest of Delhi, there is claerly a market for them. I firmly drew the line at TGI Fridays and McDonalds.
Kartik then dropped me off at Kate's party as he had to go and visit a friend, so I settled in there for the night. There was a huge group of Europeans there, all working in Delhi or Agra and I was curious to know how they found India. The overall impression I got was that most feel towards Delhi as they might for an annoying sibling. It drives you crazy, you swear you hate it but deep down, when quizzed further you admit that deep down you love it dearly, for all its faults.
There was one Indian guy there who badgered me for a dance incessently. Finally I concided.
"You are most beautiful girl" blah blah blah, "where you coming from?"
"England, London"
"Ah! You are English! I have much respect for you, much respect!" He bent down and placed his forehead on my hands to illustrate the fact. "The English are a great country, you are great people, ruled over India for many years."
"Yes but we were not always that nice to you..."
"England great country, India would be better to be ruled by England again. Much respect for you, may God bless you and may you live a long life." He bowed.
The same guy was thrown out of the party later for poking the girls who had fallen asleep in the corner. Hmmm. But it is interesting none the less that an attitude like that still exists. In fact, whenever I tell anyone I'm from England they light up.
"England? Ah! Very good very good."
The party progressed like many do and got very silly, like many do. I'll upload some picks of weird o'clock when my memory card is full.
The next morning we all awoke bleerily and I remembered that I'd badgered a Dutch guy Walter into taking me to Humayun's tomb. Firsty I had to buy a mattress, I shall be moving in the flat as of today and needed something to sleep on. Thanks to some haggling on Walter's part I came back with one for about a fiver. I then set off to Humayun's tomb with 3 guys, affectionately known as my bitches.
The day was grey which means that my photos do not do it justice. It is very simialr to the Taj only much smaller and red sandstone instead of marble but impressive none the less. We wandered around through the crowds (I must go there in the morning!) Marveling 1st hand at what I'd seen in your pictures Mum, that lace-like stonework. Beautiful! There are some photos to follow.
We then ambled in search of coffee, only to remember that some had promised to go to a Spanish culture performance that evening. We autoed it over there pronto and sat through a rather painful speach by the Ambassador of Colombia followed by some rather wonderful Spanish dancing. I think I should say that Indians dancing the Salsa, although unexpected was a fantastic sight and they are very good at it!
Dinner out en mass afterwards and then the auto charade with which I began this account.
And that takes me to today, Monday. I will move in to the shared digs later and make much use of my ear plugs I'd imagine.
But for now I will find a cafe and sit with my lnely planet and decide what I shall do this week.
I hope you are all well. xxx
Friday, February 16, 2007
Well so far so good, I've made it to Delhi.
Long night flight with no sleep has meant that everything so far has passed in a surreal blur.
I staggered out of Arivals early this morning and was most relieved to see my name being held up on a card (yes, Mummie knows best), my nice driver took me to my hostel where I crashed out for a few hours and had a very cold shower, the 1st of many I'm sure, before daring to venture out in search of soap (how could I have forgotten that?!) I returned elated and triumphant, I'd forgotten how little achievments like that can be so reassuring when you are somewhere totally alien. A girl walking around on her own seems to be regarded as a curious novelty but aside from a bit of gawping I remained unscathed. I'm now master of rickshaws ('autos') so no need to wander so much. And what better way to get around than clinging to the inside frame of a small box on wheels with you life in the hands of a driver who seems to make up for his inferiority complex of driving such a little thing by taking on large lorries. Horns blare constantly and everyone seems to be of the thinking of: Why have one lane when you can hog two and then swerve from on to the other... Great fun.
I met Kate in the afternoon (who is lovely by the way - thank you Ellie) and two 18 year olds (her cousin and his friend)who, having been in India for 2 weeks now delighted in educating me as to the ways of 'Delhi life' and how to 'survive'. All well meant but their constant bickering has lead me to reconsider my inital proposal that I tag along with them when they go to Agra on Monday. The Taj, I fear, may not be enhanced by the snitching.
Kate took us to a modern marble creation, the Lotus Temple which is, you've guessed it, in the shape of a giant lotus, it is the closest thing I've seen to a religious Syney Opera House, massive and totally silent inside (no talking) "the quietest place in Delhi" said Kate appriciatively. It is a Bahai place of worship. Bahai seems to be a religion that ticks all the boxes: "An independent world religion, all embrascing, broad in its outlook, scientific in its methods and humanitaria in its principles." Seems too good to be true!
For a total contrast we then went to an altogether curlier temple for Hari Krishnas. We were just in time, the doors opened and the worshipers flooded in bedecked in beautiful saris, the children hopscotching, giggling and preying in unison.
In front of 3 shrines 3 robed, bronzed and very muscley monks blew long and hard into conk shells, signalling the start of the 'Pouja'. Everyone gathered and the curtains were drawn back with a flourish revealing the glittering, doll-like figures of Krishna and his mates (better described by Kate) bells jinggled, people started lying on the floor and I tried to absorb the culture shock!
On our way out Kate presented me with a flowered wreath (like the ones in 'Monsoon Wedding') "Welcome to India".
So all in all a good day! I think I'm going to be very happy in Dehli, so much to see though! Tomorrow, just to start off on a cultural note, I'm being taken shopping and then clubbing. Will the YWCA let me come in at 4am though, that is the question...
Long night flight with no sleep has meant that everything so far has passed in a surreal blur.
I staggered out of Arivals early this morning and was most relieved to see my name being held up on a card (yes, Mummie knows best), my nice driver took me to my hostel where I crashed out for a few hours and had a very cold shower, the 1st of many I'm sure, before daring to venture out in search of soap (how could I have forgotten that?!) I returned elated and triumphant, I'd forgotten how little achievments like that can be so reassuring when you are somewhere totally alien. A girl walking around on her own seems to be regarded as a curious novelty but aside from a bit of gawping I remained unscathed. I'm now master of rickshaws ('autos') so no need to wander so much. And what better way to get around than clinging to the inside frame of a small box on wheels with you life in the hands of a driver who seems to make up for his inferiority complex of driving such a little thing by taking on large lorries. Horns blare constantly and everyone seems to be of the thinking of: Why have one lane when you can hog two and then swerve from on to the other... Great fun.
I met Kate in the afternoon (who is lovely by the way - thank you Ellie) and two 18 year olds (her cousin and his friend)who, having been in India for 2 weeks now delighted in educating me as to the ways of 'Delhi life' and how to 'survive'. All well meant but their constant bickering has lead me to reconsider my inital proposal that I tag along with them when they go to Agra on Monday. The Taj, I fear, may not be enhanced by the snitching.
Kate took us to a modern marble creation, the Lotus Temple which is, you've guessed it, in the shape of a giant lotus, it is the closest thing I've seen to a religious Syney Opera House, massive and totally silent inside (no talking) "the quietest place in Delhi" said Kate appriciatively. It is a Bahai place of worship. Bahai seems to be a religion that ticks all the boxes: "An independent world religion, all embrascing, broad in its outlook, scientific in its methods and humanitaria in its principles." Seems too good to be true!
For a total contrast we then went to an altogether curlier temple for Hari Krishnas. We were just in time, the doors opened and the worshipers flooded in bedecked in beautiful saris, the children hopscotching, giggling and preying in unison.
In front of 3 shrines 3 robed, bronzed and very muscley monks blew long and hard into conk shells, signalling the start of the 'Pouja'. Everyone gathered and the curtains were drawn back with a flourish revealing the glittering, doll-like figures of Krishna and his mates (better described by Kate) bells jinggled, people started lying on the floor and I tried to absorb the culture shock!
On our way out Kate presented me with a flowered wreath (like the ones in 'Monsoon Wedding') "Welcome to India".
So all in all a good day! I think I'm going to be very happy in Dehli, so much to see though! Tomorrow, just to start off on a cultural note, I'm being taken shopping and then clubbing. Will the YWCA let me come in at 4am though, that is the question...
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Howdy all, thanks for joining.
Here is my online diary to chart my progression across the globe.
First stop Delhi, then Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos, Oz, and South America (Peru and Chile)
I'm of in one week and cold feet have set in, although that might have something to do with the snow induced wet boots I'm wearing. I'm pumped full of rabies hep b, typhoid, polio, tetanus and have just swallowed my 1st malaria tablet that guarantees me hallucinations and vivid nightmares... bring it on! Who needs all the full moon party can offer if you just take malaria pills?
Anyho, the snow has stopped so I venture out. Next post comin soon, hopefully when I've actually managed to leave the country... x
Here is my online diary to chart my progression across the globe.
First stop Delhi, then Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos, Oz, and South America (Peru and Chile)
I'm of in one week and cold feet have set in, although that might have something to do with the snow induced wet boots I'm wearing. I'm pumped full of rabies hep b, typhoid, polio, tetanus and have just swallowed my 1st malaria tablet that guarantees me hallucinations and vivid nightmares... bring it on! Who needs all the full moon party can offer if you just take malaria pills?
Anyho, the snow has stopped so I venture out. Next post comin soon, hopefully when I've actually managed to leave the country... x
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