Forts and Palaces and Open Sewers, Oh My!

If you're never had the pleasure of a casual stroll beside an open sewer, I can assure you it is an experience. Quite the contrast to the grandeur we saw visiting the palaces, fortresses and palaces of the maharajahs, but then again India really is a land of contradiction, if not complete and utter oxymoron.

Today we enjoyed the cultural sights of Jodphur, particularly the Mehrangarh (maharajah's fort) and the Jaswant Thada crematorium. The fort is a spectacular pink sandstone structure with room upon room and exhibit upon exhibit, in addition to gorgeous views of Jodphur.

One of my favorite moments of the day was stepping out of my shoes and stepping into the temple area of the Mehrangarh, because for a minute or two, Bobo and I were the only people around. In a country of over a billion, I have discovered that is it next to impossible to find yourself un-surrounded by dozens of people most anywhere you go. Thus far, that is what has struck me the most about India: the sheer number of people.

After a leisurely lunch, we enjoyed a walk through the bazaar and marketplace of the Old City, where we spent hours looking at some of the amazing textiles that serve as the backbone of the local economy. Jodphur is the nexus between many European fashion houses and local mills and craftsmen. I have never seen so many gorgeous pashminas, cashmere blankets, and applique, filigree, or embroidered textiles.

After we realized we had spent a good part of two hours looking at fabrics, we scampered back to the hotel to freshen up for dinner at the maharajah's palace. Partially made into a luxurious hotel/resort, the beautiful structure is still the home of the current Former Maharajah* and his family, albeit they are confined to only one wing of the massive palace. Imagine if the Queen of England were stuck in one area of Buckingham Palace and the rest opened up as a hotel. Sort of a strange concept in theory and yet, in practice it seems to work just fine. Bobo has already decided to try to marry me off to the Prince of Jodphur, the next Former Maharajah.* I think she is still disappointed that my semester abroad in the UK did not result in my becoming some kind of minor European royalty at the very least, future Princess of Wales/Queen of England at best.

I'm really glad we came to Jodphur. It seems as though many tourists skip it in favor of the Delhi/Agra/Jaipur/Udaipur circuit, but I've found it to be beautiful and interesting, and I can't wait to compare it to the other cities of Rajasthan over the next four days.

More tomorrow from Udaipur, "The Venice of India" . . .

*In 1972, Indira Gandhi amended India's constitution to essentially strip the maharajahs of their titles. Gone were their lands and tax exemptions. Fascinatingly, they officially must be referred to as "Former Maharajahs," so that's actually what it says on their business cards. As a result, they have had to find ways to (gasp!) actually support themselves and the way of life to which they have grown accustomed over the last few centuries. One method: open up your palace to tourism. Voila!

Sunrise in Old Jodphur, "The Blue City"

The Long, Long, Long Road to Jodphur

The morning started with our last game drive at Ranthambore, no tigers this time, but we saw wild boar, antelopes, deer and tons of monkeys. The lack of tiger sighting was also due to the fact that people were allowed to enter the reserve on foot (actually they were all barefoot) for the fourth day after the new moon for the festival of Ganesh. Lots of Indians scampering around the park are not conducive to tigers’ outings.

After leaving, alas not without saying goodbye to our lovely tent, we boarded our minivan, very comfortable, but it was going to be our prison for the next nine hours….
We found out that the Indian style of driving is similar to the one in Naples, basically honk your horn at anything that moves: honk at men, women and children, honk at cows, honk at the ubiquitous not so wild pigs, honk at motorcycles, honk at cows, honk at trucks, honk at cars and, did I mention, honk at cows?

The villages we passed before passing Jaipur where your typical run of the mill, Sunday in any village: the men all out sitting around in bars, the women hardly anywhere to be seen. One interesting thing is though that the Indians refuse to live their lives unadorned , from the fronts of their trucks to the butts of their camels everything is painted, tasseled, bedazzled and even the poorest women in the smallest villages wear the most amazing saris with the most beautiful colors and with nose piercings, bangles on their arms, and beaded, painted, mirrored fabrics.

We finally arrived in Jodhpur in time for a late dinner and our hotel called Raas is absolutely amazing….more to come.