Nicole schreibt...
Rajasthan 2007 |
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Going to India had been my wildest dream for a long time to come and a few earlier attempts were aborted for various reasons (weird male travel partners usually or once when tensions between India and Pakistan flared so much that we decided it was too risky to go). Now the time had finally come: I was heading to India and with a very unlikely travel mate to boot: My aunt, who's travelled far but under completely different circumstances as I have, using "safe" big travel operators or on posh five-star cruiseships. Since I don't like big groups and coach trips and she needed organization, we had compromised on doing an arranged tour with pre-booked hotels, local guides and a car with driver to take us around Rajasthan. And frankly, in the end I was glad that we had done it this way because I would have gone crazy trying to navigate the chaotic mess that is India myself.
Having got used to the high standard of Asian airlines to take me east, flying Air India was a bit of a shock as the plane was a bit of an ancient mess and badly overheated, but somehow we made it to Delhi alive, stumbling out of the plane at a lovely 4.30am in the morning. Having heard the horror stories of first-time visitors either turning on their heels and heading out on the next flight home when faced with India's mess and crooked taxi-drivers preying on new arrivals, I was glad that we were awaited by our local travel agent who took us to the hotel in the north of Delhi, the upmarket Oberoi Maiden. The first day was free to recover from the flight and time change, but in the afternoon we went out into New Delhi by taxi to take a first stroll around Connaught Place, supposedly the 'heart' of New Delhi, but a rather chaotic mess. I did at least find the shop FabIndia, which had been recommended to me to stock up on Indian garments (yes, yes, I love the Indian salwar kameez and have had one for years and was glad I could finally go out and buy more AND actually wear them in public!). Delhi was racked by unseasonal cold weather and downpours, so we started our sightseeing trip the next morning in the pouring rain and frozen to the bones.
Quick looks at the Red Fort, the Jama Masjid, India's biggest mosque and a rather desolate walk around Rajghat with its memorials of Mahatma, Indira and Rajiv Gandhi who were cremated there, at the banks of the Yamuna River (and here's something you probably don't know: Indira and Rajiv were mother and son, but they weren't related to Mahatma at all. Indira was Nehru's daughter and married into a completely different Gandhi family). While we visited Indira's house, now a museum (including the exact marking of the spot where she was assassinated by her bodyguards), the skies finally began to clear and we drove out to the Qutb Minar complex in bright sunshine, but my shoes were soaked anyway and I was cold and clammy, so I was glad to head back to the hotel then, puzzling over questions Delhi had thrown up. What on earth is a sexologist?
We were put on a train to Kota the next day, chugging through the country at incredibly low speed most of the time and got there in the evening only. Kota is a rather shoddy, non-descript town, but we stayed at the Maharajah's Brijaj Bhawan Palace which had been built by the British last century and used as their residence. The rooms oozed colonial atmosphere from every nook and cranny and you could almost hear the rustling of crinolines and smell the cigar smoke in the lavish dining room. Not far from Kota lies the yet undiscovered gem of Bundi, where I was taken the next morning (alone, as my aunt who had been spouting lots of unwanted advice ever since we left, was down with diarrhoe. Did I feel smug? You bet!). The palace of Bundi stood empty and abandoned for several decades and has only recently been opened for tourists to come and marvel at the gorgeous murals everywhere.
Finally we were on the way to the Rajasthan of every tourist dream, starting with Udaipur. Well, the ride from Kota to Udaipur over appalling roads, some of which wouldn't deserve to be called country lanes here, took a mind-boggling eight hours with a lunch stop at Chittorgarh to eat and visit the Fort. So when we finally reached Udaipur in the evening, we just flopped into bed and did the big sightseeing tour the next day.
We had local guides in every town and the sweetie in Udaipur who looked like Shahrukh Khan's little brother, definitely deserves a honorable mention here. After a tour around the gorgeous City Palace we went on a boat tour of Pichola Lake with the much famed Lake Palace Hotel (where part of the Bond-movie Octopussy was shot, a fact they are eager to rub in everywhere in Udaipur) and Jagmandir Island. I had hoped for a shopping stroll around Lal Ghat then (the main street leading up to the city palace, which was crammed full of souvenir shops) but we were dragged off uphill to the Monsoon Palace then to enjoy the view all over the city and its lakes and I noticed that it's not easy to explain the concept of western "shopping" to an Indian.
After explaining that I wanted to go shopping, I was asked "What do you want to buy?" and I didn't really know, as I just wanted to browse the shops. Settling for "clothes" at last, the guide nodded understandingly... and we were driven to a little touristy shop somewhere in the outskirts of Udaipur with a "here's a shop, here you can buy clothes" attitude. But I persisted in going back to Lal Ghat and did end up buying a lovely skirt and dirt-cheap bangles. There was another funny moment about the ubiquitous Indian shopping bags with their colorful motives that were on display somewhere. After saying I wanted to get one, the guide pointed at a few and went "Well, there's the Taj Mahal, then there's Ganesh, the elephant God..." and I interrupted and pointed at one bag and said "And there's Shahrukh Khan, I want that bag!! Which led to a rather fun discussion about Bollywood and the guide saying that he wanted to be a film star too. I wish him well!
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On the next day we set off for Jodhpur, stopping at Ranakpur for lunch and a visit to the famous Jain temples that are truly magnificent with their forest of elaborately carved marble pillars within and the Buddha statues with their glass eyes that seemed to glow in the semi-darkness. Another long drive took us to Jodhpur at last where we got a chance to catch the last afternoon sunshine in the lovely garden of the hotel, which was part of the maharajah's palace. Jodhpur became for me the rather surprising highlight of the Rajasthan tour with the fascinating Fort perched high above the town.The eeriest part was the entrance gate to the fort where the last maharajah's wives and concubines had left their handprints on their way to the funeral pyre in the ancient ritual of 'sati' in which they'd be burned alive with their husband's corpse. A practise the British mercifully prohibited. The fort also boasts some incredibly beautiful rooms within and a great view over the town and the barren countryside. Coming down from the Fort we stopped for a stroll over the market around the Clocktower and a (undoubtedly pre-planned) visit to a spice shop where I stocked up on masalas before we hit the road to Jaisalmer.
The camel ride in the afternoon was another height of commercialism - having been an eager horse-rider for years I had really looked forward to riding a camel and it was certainly an interesting experience, only marred by the terrible scenes in the dunes where the rides end and people sit down to watch the sun set over the desert. It could be so peaceful and enchanting, were it not for the bunches of locals that continually pester and harrass the tourists by trying to sell some stuff, perform local dances/music or simply beg, getting almost rude when you want to be left alone. In the end I was glad to be out of that commercial circus.
Another day, another town: Next stop was Bikaner, but despite another gorgeous hotel-cum-palace it was a miserable day in which I was racked with a headache that not even a lovely Ayurveda massage could cure. The massage itself was an interesting experience though, far removed from the esoteric overpriced "spa" experience you get here. An elderly Indian lady received me in a dingy basement room of the hotel, told me to strip completely, drenched me in oil and massaged me from head to toe, leaving nothing out. And finally fed me a spoonful of dubious powder. Since she spoke no English, I still have no idea what on earth it was.
Because of the headache I don't really remember Bikaner's sights too clearly - during the tour around the palace (with some gorgeous interiors) I was mostly concerned with not throwing up into a corner and what I remember mostly about the camel breeding farm we later visited was the stink of the beasts. And while most young animals are heartbreakingly cute, little camels definitely are not.
Another day, another town, heading on to Mandawa, a little non-descript place in the middle of nowhere. The Shekhawati region however, was once home to rich traders and merchants who splashed out on lavishly decorated big houses known as havelis. They later headed for the big cities and the houses were abandoned. Many have been standing empty for ages or regular people moved into them, not caring much for the glories of the past. But these days more and more havelis and their great murals are being restored, putting places like Mandawa on the tourist map. The gorgeous Castle Mandawa hotel was the best justification for this detour though - the first place in days where the hot tub was actually hot and with a buffet dinner in the garden to die for.
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Having enjoyed the silence in little-known places like Bundi and Mandawa and the gorgeous splendor of the forts of Jodhpur and Udaipur, I found Amber a disappointment - not much to see and horribly overrun by tourists.
It didn't get better in town where we visited the pretty city palace, all painted pink and white like the most elaborate cake in the world and the quirky Jantar Mantar, an observatory built by star-gazing maharajah Jai Singh in 1728. But I was quickly annoyed again by the relentless pursuit of all the vendors and the way too many people seem to see western tourists as cash cows only to squeeze a few rupees from, so I was actually glad to leave Jaipur behind and hide in the peaceful silence of our lovely countryside hotel near Amber Fort.
I admit that at this stage I had become rather tired of India and was already longing for home, but luckily we still had the highlight of the whole trip waiting for us: Agra and the Taj Mahal. And yes, that's certainly one tourist attraction that deserves all the hype it gets. An impossibly beautiful piece of art, laid out in perfect symmetry which not even the tourist masses could disturb. It's impossible to describe really and all I can say is that the Taj Mahal is something everyone should go and see for himself some day.
Finally we returned to Delhi where we had an additional day to chill, although at this point I was ready to just flee home. India had a funny way of making up to me though we had already boarded the Air India plane to Frankfurt and taken our seats in Economy when one of the flight attendants came to us with new tickets, asking us to change our seats my aunt was given a ticket for the business class in the front part of the 747 and I was given a ticket for first class in the little upper galley. Too bad that Air India has such shoddy old planes (I hear the first class in Emirates is a marvel) but even so you wouldn't hear me complaining about getting a huge comfy seat, food off real china and enough champagne to get roaringly drunk above the skies.
Overall I am certainly glad that I've finally been able to visit India and see it with my own eyes. It was not as shocking as some people said, but I don't get those who gush about it either. Sure you need strong nerves to deal with the mess and the dirt and the chaos on the roads, but you also get rich rewards in the form of gorgeous forts and palaces, rich history, fascinating experiences and great food. The only thing that really irritated me was the attitude with which tourists are approached there. Whenever I travel, my biggest rule is to treat people with respect. And wherever I've been so far, I have always felt welcome in some countries more than others, but it has always been a pleasant experience. Now however I so often felt myself being treated as a mere cash cow as every little bit of help or contact forever involved being asked for money, up to a point where I didn't look anyone in the face anymore and ignored every attempt to speak to me. Which is a shame considering that there are certainly plenty of nice hospitable Indians around and I often worried about appearing rude to those. But if India wants to encourage tourism, they'd sure need to reconsider their attitude towards western visitors. This doesn't only include the greed for baksheesh, but also the division of entrance fees everywhere with non-Indians paying a much higher price than Indians and all the scams going around.
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