On top of Jaipur

I was just about to embark to on a motor rickshaw trip to Choti Chaupar, an intersection in the old city from where I wanted to continue my walking tour I had stopped the other day, when all of a sudden another guy climbed into the vehicle. He'd be going in the same direction, said the driver, whether it's OK if he joined me. So it happened that I would spend the day together with Doug from San Francisco, technical writer for Apple. A slim red haired man, 42 years of age but looking at least 10 years younger. His face seemed to say something between "seen it all!" and "too scared to try!". - Initially it was his plan to go straight to the palace, but then he changed his mind and joined me walking the last few hundred meters. I enjoyed picking up the groove of the early morning city, getting some bottled water and indulging in a glass of fresh pineapple juice until stepping up to the entrance of the palace.

All in all there wasn't too much to see there as most of the interiors were closed off to the public. We had a look at some elaborate antique clothing and a courtyard featuring four doors with designs of symbolic meaning. The most memorable thing were a couple of super sized (6 foot tall) silver vessels, used by a certain Maharaja for taking some holy Ganges water to Britain on his journey.

The royal observatory was only step and a half away from the palace. Now this was a terrific sight. There was no telescope, no lens or machinery, the observatory was actually more like a football field sized sundial clock, am open air facility obviously. By building larger sundials they could obtain an accuracy of up to 20 seconds. There were constructions for astrological time, zodiac, ascendant, inclination of the sun etc. - We hired a guide to have all the details explained to us.

Doug inquired cautiously whether I mind if he still joined me for lunch. He was very easygoing and accommodating, so I didn't mind his company at all. We decided to check out OMB, a vegetarian place. The food was fine, but an excessive amount of waiters were pacing around bored, and eventually "our" guy hovered over me with bulged eyes while I was paying my bill, expecting a tip. - I didn't do him the favor.

It was already past 14:30 when we took on my plan to get a ride to the edge of the city and hike up to Tiger Fort. We hired a cycle rickshaw boy. Showing a map to any taxi driver had always turned out to be somewhat pointless and caused more confusion than shed light into the situation, but still I thought it might be helpful in this case. The boy didn't talk much at all but seemed to get the point. He went off in the right direction, then took a slant to the right off the course, eventually leaving the city through the wrong gate and continuing on and on. Talking to him from the back didn't seem to help, and we basically had to knock him off his seat to make him stop. We showed him the map again, but he just remained in mute apathy. We went across the street to flag down a motor rickshaw (in order to make up for time) that came the other way. There are no meters in Jaipur, and the first guy to stop asked for a 100 Rupees, but soon after that we had someone agree to 50 Rupees which sounded a lot more like it. Again there was some discussion about where and what, but eventually he took us swiftly to the outskirts of Jaipur, a village of goats, pigs and flying garbage. We started walking uphill and soon left the last buildings behind us. The fort above us had moved into proximity, and only a few bends of the stony path would bring us there. But first we had to stop and marvel at the fantastically maze-like rectangular pattern of the city that stretched out at our feet! There were almost no landmarks, just tightly woven structures with tiny people strewn across the roofs. We were a bit at a loss of how to frame such endless richness with our cameras, but eventually we managed to move on, and shorty after 15:00 we had reached the top. A few white cows greeted us after entering the outer enclosure. Where we had expected a ticket booth, at the gate to the the inner wall, some sort of cat door lead us in without further ado.

After a short walk on the defense wall we made it to the palace. Much like in Amber where a palace was part of the fort just next to the main palace they had apparently felt the need for another palace in this fort, too. - Here at last was the ticket booth. With almost no other tourists around the only guide on the site offered us his service. He seemed OK, so I went for the deal. It turned out he had high aspirations in photography and more often than not gave us detailed instructions of where and how to take pictures of the building. The latter contained basically a suite for the king and 12 separate identical suites for his wives. Many of its ornaments, mainly the cornices, featured abstract vulval illustrations. So what we had here was the private brothel of a rich hillsitter, defended by eunuchs and cannons. - Talk about machismo.

We had returned to the inner city by nightfall, walked right across it and continued on until we reached the "Copper Chimney", a restaurant that was recommended in both our guides. It had a nice interior, but the chicken tandoori I ordered was actually a burger.

I had plans to catch the 2:00 night train to Agra, so I grabbed 2 liter of waters from the next corner store before taking a taxi back to the hotels. The driver offered he would send his brother to pick me up at 1:20 (the station wasn't far at all, but 40 minutes would give me enough time to look for a backup vehicle if he was a no-show). I said bye to Doug and retreated to my hotel. I had already checked out of my room in the morning, but they had a pretty cozy lounge with internet access, sound system, library, washrooms etc. in the back of the building, so I logged on there.

1:20. All hotel stuff had already left, but I could retrieve my suitcase in a shed and open the main gate, stirring up two freezing men in woolen covers that had rested against the wall of the hotel property. They loaded my suitcase and took me to the train station. We didn't talk about the fare until we stopped; I suggested 60 Rupees, a fair price considering the distance and the time of day. The stared at me in surprise: "No, 300!" Apparently they seriously expected me to cough up 300 for having waited in the cold for three hours, and apparently there was some miscommunication with the brother about the price. I explained that their business wasn't my concern, I would just pay for what I got, a 7 minute ride to the station. I didn't understand why it would take two guys to drive a taxi in the first place. Still feeling a bit sorry for them I gave them 100 and left the taxi, but now one guy came after me telling me they wanted 300 or nothing, attempting to return the 100 Rupees to me. Hassles! I turned and headed for the station.

The platform was crowded. People huddled around a display box with a tattered printout featuring a list of reservations. I had a look and didn't find my name, but even if I did the list wouldn't tell me anything else than the information I already found on my ticket. What I needed to know was: Where would my coach be standing after the arrival of the train? Nobody spoke English. Eventually one guy understood me and, asking the food sellers on the platform, he could point out the spot. - The train turned out to be late. Its announcement played over and over, tightening up the atmosphere on the expecting platform. Finally: A single bright light, approaching slowly and almost unnotably like an approaching meteor.

I looked for my berth and found it occupied: An elderly couple (she was caucasian, he appeared to be asian) were waking up to my request. She explained they couldn't climb the stairs, so I quickly agreed to go for the top berth. That even turned out to work out to my favor, too as the bed were short and my feet were sticking out into the corridor, but on a level higher than most of the passengers' heads. I had already put on my sunglasses and headphones in order to doze off when someone disturbed me: The guy with the ticket for the top berth. I didn't react much and simply let the old lady in my berth take care of it.