Pour some sugar on me

So I was at this Kopitiam the other day and ordered tea. A lot of these coffee counters these days leave the sugar out of the tea and have a separate bottle of sugar nearby for you to add according to taste, so I sipped my tea and sure enough there wasn't any sugar. I stirred it a little and still no sugar. So I looked around for a sugar container and I found one nearby, and I added some in liberal quantities. Then I sat down and had a sip. My tea was very salty.

At this point your typical level-headed human being would let out a sigh, contemplate a while on the inherent stupidity of man, and either leave or get another drink. But what does the typical level-headed human being know? I'll be darned if I would be deprived of my tea. So I sat there and took my salty tea like a man. After a while you even stop tasting the salt in the tea... no, who am I kidding, it was horribly salty till the end. I'm not really sure what's the takeaway from vignette. Okay, maybe I can think of a couple. One, I can be really stubborn sometimes. Two, salt in tea is okay in moderation but not in excess - actually I'm not even so sure about the moderation part. And three, it's time that someone calls for adequate labelling of containers at Kopitiam counters before there's a nationwide outbreak of high blood pressure amongst stubborn men. I can call for it, but I'm to stubborn to do so.

Day 15: Delhi-Singapore

We did not get any wake up call in the morning, because the concierge was still asleep. So we ended up giving him a wake up call, and a bit of telling to in the process. Our driver was there, fortunately... he must have spent the night in the car itself.

We got presented the final hotel bill upon checking out, and it was a whopping 10000Rp for three nights. To the original quote of 2500Rp a night was added 'luxury' (!!!) and 'government' taxes (which I don't think will ever get into government hands) and so we ended up paying roughly 30% more on top what we had budgeted for. We'd already spent most of our rupees and set aside just enough to pay for the rooms, but how silly of us to not see this coming. Of course this was a clear-cut ripoff. They never mentioned anything about taxes to us when checking in, and we didn't enquire since all room quotations from the previous hotels were always inclusive of taxes. And of course, the room charges were negotiable and hence arbitrary - how can such arbitrary amounts be so precisely taxable? It all stunk to high heaven, but we had a plane to catch, and there wasn't much room for argument anyway in this kind of situation, so we had to just pay them whatever we had in cash and the remainder via credit card. Our whole experience in Ajanta Hotel was a case of blatant swindling by the management, and which is why I can't emphasize this more - if you're looking for a place to stay, avoid Hotel Ajanta, and be very aware in the other hotels around the strip too - be sure you get the room you want with the final price you want - recommended by Lonely Planet or not.

And so with some bitterness and disgust we left for the airport. Throughout our whole trip we had been drven around by some of the fastest, most reckless drivers, regardless of whether we were in a rush or not. So of course, on our final day, when we had a plane to catch, we get the slowest driver possible. And I do mean slow - the roads were empty, but he never went beyond 30km/h, and he'd start slowing down 50m before a traffic light, even when it was already green. It was a totally anomalous experience - a slow driver in the land of fast drivers, especially when the roads were clear! The randomness of India, folks, never ceases to amaze - and it's precisely because of such unexpected encounters that we always made an early start whenever there was a plane/train to catch. Even the driver was getting bored by how slow he was driving, that he was actually falling asleep at the wheel, so we had to keep talking to make sure that idiot stayed awake - we were even contemplating getting him to pull aside and taking over the wheel, driving ourselves to the airport while our poor driver catches up on his precious sleep.

Fortunately we got to the airport without any mishaps, and we duly checked in, got onboard the plane, and said our farewells to India and its population of heroes and clowns.

Read any book on India and you get an idea of how multi-faceted it is. There is no way for one to emerge out of this country without a conflicted opinion of one's experience there. There's plenty to dislike about travelling in India (the heat, the hygiene, the con-artists, the warped beliefs), but this is more than balanced out by the allure (the grand architecture, the magnificient scenery, the excellent hospitality, the inherent spirituality), and because one treasures clarity of mind, one will keep coming back to resolve this conflict, but of course one never does, so one keeps coming back anyway. This was my second trip to the north, and I had enjoyed the mountain scenery and weather of Himachal hill stations, the forts of Jaipur, the Mughal monuments of Delhi, and yet I still want to go further, into the mountains of Ladakh and Kashmir, the other colourful cities of Rajasthan, the other grand Mughal structures of Fatehpur Sikri and the Taj Mahal (we left this out of our itnierary because none of us were keen to go there, probably because we had been supersaturated by its imagery on all types of media that we felt nothing there could awe us anymore, but after having recently read Rushdie's short essay on the Taj Mahal, I think maybe we should have given it a chance). And I haven't even begun exploring the South - the beaches of Goa, the riverboats of Kerala, the elaborate temples of Tamil Nadu... a country so vast in its geography, its people, its ideas can never be completely explored in a lifetime, but its mere vastness is a temptation, an invitation that's hard to refuse.

The other plus point about travelling in India is the ridiculously low cost - excluding shopping and airfare, I spent just under S$700 on the whole trip. That's less than S$50 a day on food, transport and accomodation. Of course, it helped that there were 2 others to split the cost with - travelling by myself would've cost substantially more on transport and accomodation - but I felt it was pretty impressive to have paid such a small price for the reasonable amount of comfort and convenience we got in return - air-conditioned train seating, day-long car rental, spacious and comfortable hotel rooms. But my sense of satisfaction with the cheapness of the trip was wiped off when I got my phone bill - like a dolt I kept using my phone on roaming, thinking it wouldn't cost that much... the call charges turned out to be S$6 per minute, instantly erasing all the savings I made elsewhere on the trip. And so it goes.

And of course, when there's three baifellas on a trip, it's bound to be an eventful one... the shared experiences, from the memorable (three baifellas, their bags, the auto driver and his friend speeding in an auto from one railway station to another at 4am in the morning) to the type we'd rather forget (Govin's ten tequila shots too many in the drinking game), the shared conversations (including, inevitably, daily discussions of bowel movements - colour, consistency and frequency of. When I say we talked shit most of the time, I really mean we talked shit most of the time), the in-jokes (including some of the worst pick-up lines ever - for reference, see Dave) and just the general pangey and level of rationalized immaturity that one does not expect to see in two thirty-somethings and one UK University graduate. But from all that chaos and fuzzy-headedness (especially after long alcohol-sodden nights) we managed to forge out a reasonably smooth itinerary, and everything just came into place as we made decisions and came to consensus and compromises over our plans. It's no small thing that over fifteen days of close proximity we did not have any problems with each other, and we made it a point as far as possible to accomodate everyone's interests when doing long-term and short-term planning. In this way we made sure that nothing came in the way of the camaraderie and fun of travelling together, and everybody took something away from this trip. So, finally, here's some of the highlights of this trip for me:

- being in the presence of the majestic mountains of the Himalayas at Rohtang Pass
- chilli pork and whisky in a dark and dingy bar, waiting for the rain to stop at Mcleod Ganj
- driving in the misty sunset towards Simla
- having a long, lazy lunch, with beer and cards, on a rooftop restaurant in Vashisht
- exploring the labyrinth-like Nahargarh Fort
- listening to kirtan in Bangla Sahib
- walking amongst the biers in Humayun's Tomb

In those fifteen days we experienced the heat of the plains and the coolness of the hills, the honking horns and the silence of the tombs, the irritation at being swindled and the gratitude for hospitality... somehow we got through the rumbling stomach and reckless road trips, we emerged unscathed and we can now say that we have survived India and lived to tell the tale. And what a tale it is.

Day 14: Delhi

This was the last full day of our trip, so the first half of the day was focused on shopping. The three of us headed across town to a newer part of Delhi, where they had various shopping markets that we'd heard lots of good stuff about.

The contrast between Pahar Ganj, where we lived, and the rest of New Delhi was truly striking. On our side was hustle and bustle, potholed roads, chaotic traffic, the rich smell of food, sewage everywhere. Across the tracks, it was straight roads, air-conditioned malls, multi-level flyovers, big villas, posh hotels. In fact, subtracting Pahar Ganj, Delhi was pretty much like Kuala Lumpur, but with a better metro system. Our destination was the Delhi suburbs, which looked virtually indistinguishable from the typical PJ or Kelana Jaya housing estates. Dave and Govin went to Haat Bazaar, known for stalls offering wares from every single state in India. I was headed for Fab India, known for its excellent ethnic wear.

After getting an armload of kurtas at Fab India (each kurta cost about S$6-7) I explored the neighborhood, stumbling across a really excellent cafe cum bookstore in the process. For me, the best things to shop for in India, besides kurtas, are books. Not only can one find some top-notch literature (especially books about India, books by Indians and books on India by Indians) but they're much cheaper as well. I loaded up on S$100 worth of books, each one costing about $8 or so. Totally burdened from all the shopping, I headed for my rendezvous with Dave at the Defence Colony (the closer suburbs of Delhi mostly go by the name of Colonies). Govin was out with a friend of his who was studying here.

Dave and I had some excellent lunch and a couple of beers at Swagath Restaurant. The food was excellent - we got a Hyderabadi briyani and their specialty chicken gassi. It was easily the best meal I had on this trip. Fully content, we walked out to get an auto, and came across this nice little boutique called 1469 that was actually selling designer Sikh-oriented merchandise (1469 was the year Guru Nanak, the founder of Sikhism and our first Guru, was born). Both of us were pretty impressed by the whole concept, and once we emerged after doing some shopping there we were debating the feasibility of such a franchise in Singapore/Malaysia. I was of the opinion that this was a concept whose time has come and would do quite well amongst the Sikh diaspora in the region, especially after the massive commercial success of the Bollywood movie Singh is King, but Dave was more sceptical.

After leaving the Defence Colony we headed for the Mahatma Gandhi memorial, built at the spot where Gandhi was assassinated.
The spot of his assassination. The cement footsteps mark the route he took on that fateful day.

The nearby Birla House, where he lived his final few months, was now a museum commemorating his legacy, focusing on his last days.

His worldly possessions at the time of his death.

The second floor had been converted into a pretty high-tech museum of the Independence movement. All in all it was quite an impressive memorial, although a bit repetitive at times.

It was already closing time when we left the memorial and took an auto to Humayun's Tomb, which was something that I'd decided I definitely could not miss on this trip. I'd always been awed by the sense of history in Delhi, with the presence of so many monuments left behind from almost dynasty that had ruled here over its 2300 years of continuous existence. The Mughals had probably left the most memorable and magnificient ones - previously I'd had the opportunity to visit Lal Qila and Qutb Minar. This trip I'd gone to Lal Qila again, Jama Masjid, and now, finally, the Tomb.

First up, though, was a smaller tomb just outside the main complex, built for an obscure Mughal general named Isa Khan. Even though not much is known about his life, he sure left a memorable landmark to commemorate his death.





The biers, presumably those of Isa Khan and his kin.

A nearby mosque, now unused.



More pics from the Isa Khan tomb here.

And then on to the main event.





There are hundreds of unmarked biers in the tomb. Humayun's is presumably the one in the centre, but there are also many others in the surrounding area, including on the outside. Most of them are of Humayun's kin, including other Mughal emperors whos reigns were too shortlived or unremarkable (like this guy)to merit a separate tomb.

The Tomb (along with the smaller Isa Khan tomb) totally lived up to its reputation as an architectural masterpiece. The gloomy and, uh, tomb-like atmosphere also helped accentuate the aesthetics of the place. For me, this was the highlight of Delhi, along with the Qutb Minar. More pics from Humayun's Tomb here.

Dave and I were hoping to catch a qawwali performance at a nearby shrine to the Sufi saint Nizamuddin, but it turned out that these only take place on certain months, and this wasn't one of them. So instead we took an auto to the Oberoi Hotel, since it was one of Dave's aims of the trip to sip their renowned lassi. Being such a posh hotel and all, we decided to get into the whole spirit of things, lording it out while affecting an American Surfer Dude accent and lingo, enquiring about the 'lay-see' and the 'kee-babs'. I'm sure the waiters were raring to kick our asses, but being a 5-star hotel and all, they managed to retain their composure. Of course they would have their revenge when they handed us the bill... the food and drinks were average, but the prices were definitely 5-star.

From the Oberoi we got a taxi to take us to Connaught Place for dinner. We've had our fair share of daredevil taxi and auto drivers throughout the trip, but this young baifella whose taxi we took now wins the award hands down. We got into the taxi, little knowing what fate had in store for us. Once we got in, the guy turns on his CD player and starts looking for a particular track to inaugurate the journey. This track turns out to be none other than the infamous 'Rambo Rambo', which had been more or less the uninivited soundtrack to our time in the north. The music video features the really short singer wearing lots of bling, having this incredibly tall blonde model as his chick (note: if you're incredibly short, don't stand next to someone who's incredibly tall, especially if you're trying to look cool. I thought they'd have taught this in Bling Video-making 101), going out hunting from his country manor and generally doing other inexplicable Gangsta stuff all the while singing about how people call him Rambo. Don't believe me, check out the video.

Soundtrack duly selected, our hero the driver gets to the main business, weaving in and out of traffic. In the meantime I was still struggling to fasten my seatbelt, so Our Hero, noticing my predicament, takes both hands of the wheel to help fasten my seatbelt. I suppose I should have returned the favour and taken over the wheel, unfortunately I stuck rooted to the spot caught in the headlights of the oncoming truck. But, as it always happens in Bollywood, Our Hero, passenger's seatbelt duly fastened, gets back on the wheel in time to get the car under control. Oh how he must have suffered under the apprehensions of us mere mortals!

Needless to say, the rest of our drive was truly exhilarating, and all the way the driver kept changing the tracks on the CD player with the remote - yes, his car radio/player has a remote - no doubt since such expert driving requires the right soundtrack. Upon arriving at Connaught Place I barely checked the urge to kiss the ground, although I think we did tip the driver a little in appreciation for a memorable ride.

At Connaught Place we walked around a little, weighing our dinner alternatives, before opting for the Volga Restaurant. Unfortunately it wasn't serving Russian food. Instead, it served Indian food, but I suppose the Russian name was in reference to the sparse and utilitarian internal decoration which was like something out of the Cold War-era.

On the menu we spotted Black Label being listed under beer, so we duly called over the waiter to highlight the error. But then we were informed that there indeed was a Black Label beer, which we then tried, and like all the other 'regular' beers in India, tasted like crap. One thing I've learnt about Indian beers - never go for the 'Regular', always go for the 'Premium'.

After an average meal, we got an auto back to our hotel, and we started packing and rearranging our stuff, in preparation for an early departure the next day. We also arranged with the hotel for a 3am wake-up call and transport to the airport.

Day 13:Delhi

Our first destination in the morning was Chandni Chowk. The auto driver as usual was bent on ripping us off, but uniquely in this case he put a pious spin on it, as he kept swearing on Waheguru (he was a Sikh) that he wasn't ripping us off while doing so. We didn't really much bargaining anyway, since we had to get rid of our excess rupees in one way or another over this day and the next, and getting extravagantly charged for auto travel was one sure way of doing so.

Security was pretty tight all around Delhi this day since there had been bomb blasts in Bangalore and Ahmedabad a couple of days back and there was a strong indication that Delhi was the next target. Checkpoints had been set up at all the major tourist attractions and some roads - like the one leading to our hotel - were cordoned off. Our backpacks were frequently the subject of police checks when walking in areas like Chandni Chowk, while at some places like the Red Fort, we could not enter with our bags, but have to leave them at the baggage counter. The situation eased off a little after a couple of days... but as it turned out tragically, the terrorists got their way eventually.

We got off at the Sis Ganj Gurdwara, built on the spot where the Guru Tegh Bahadur, the 9th Guru of the Sikhs, was beheaded on orders of the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb. Dave and I had no problems getting in with our bags, but Govin was prevented from coming in with his bag, basically because he looked too dodgy. So I went out, grabbed his bag and told him to go ahead in. After a while I went in with his bag, and no one stopped me. This of course proves once and for all that Govin is dodgier-looking than me.

We spent some time at the darbar, and headed out for the langgar. This time all three of us were prevented from entering with our bags, so instead of checking in our bags at the bag counter we just decided to go out. We went to the nearby McDonalds for lunch... the McDonalds menu in India has almost nothing in common with its counterparts around the world. Everything has been Indianized, up to the use of raita instead of mayonnaise in their burgers. It's pretty delicious too... no India trip is complete without a trip to the McDonalds. I recommend the McAloo Tikki burger.

Having completed our McDonalds pilgrimage, we looked around Chandni Chowk for a bit. Our explorations were cut short when it suddenly started to rain, but fortunately it was just a brief spell. We didn't linger too long and headed over to the Jama Masjid, just a short walk away.

The Jama Masjid is one of the oldest and biggest mosques in India, built by Shah Jahan in the 17th century and can easily accomodate 25,000. We got there just when the Friday prayers were finishing and weren't allowed in by the security until all the worshippers came out. We stood there in the wilting heat - the rain hadn't helped much - for nearly half an hour as a never-ending stream of people kept pouring out of the mosque. Finally, the crowd thinned somewhat and we were allowed in. Once again, for some inexplicable reason I was asked to pay to snap pics with my camera (in a mosque!!), so I used my camera phone instead.
The first glimpse of the masjid is simply breath-taking.

A corner of the compound is set aside for pigeons to feed on grains.

Inside the mosque.

We spent some time at the mosque, after which we headed across the street to the Red Fort. I've been there before, so it wasn't anything new to me. I was also feeling quite exhausted and dehiydrated from the heat, so decided to sit down somewhere while Dave and Govin explored the environs. While seated this dodgy-looking guy comes over to me and asks my help in operating the PDA that he had just 'bought'. But I felt it wasn't for me to judge by his dodginess if he had actually purchased the phone or just, um, borrowed it permanently from someone, even though you'd think that the PDA would have come with a manual. So at best, I did my good deed for the day and at worst, I just might have aided a criminal, in which case I can probably strike that off my list of things to do before I'm dead.

Those thoughts were brushed away like a drowsy fly as I waited for Dave and Govin. They returned shortly and we headed out of the fort. Our next destination was Bangla Sahib, and we decided to go there via the Delhi Metro, which had a station close by. I have to say the Delhi Metro is pretty impressive, even more so when you consider the effort required to maintain it in such an environment. Trains were frequent, stations were clean and informative, tickets were cheap. Only drawback was due to the bomb scare, there was a security checkpoint at the entrance so only one person could enter at a time, so we had to take our place at the end of a winding slow-moving queue. Eventually we managed to get in and the train arrived shortly, so it wasn't too long before we emerged at the station near Bangla Sahib.
On my first trip to India I had been very taken with Bangla Sahib. The place simply exudes an aura of serenity and peace to which I couldn't help but submit myself. So this time around I pretty much insisted that we go there. Coincidentally we got there in the evening, which was about the same time of the day that I first visited the gurdwara. The shades of the evening sky combined with the sounds of kirtan to accentuate the spirituality of the moment. Once again we weren't allowed to bring our bags into the Darbar Sahib, so we just sat outside. But it didn't matter to me. Even more than the Golden Temple, Bangla Sahib is where I can lose myself and realize my faith.

We spent some time there - and like the first time, however long wasn't long enough - before taking an auto to our next destination, Connaught Place. I introduced Dave and Govin to the labyrinth of wonder that was Pallika Bazaar - the underground shopping center at Connaught Place where one could find virtually anything. We split up to do our own exploring, and I bagged myself a few Hindi DVDs at about 100Rp a copy. Govin wanted to spend more time looking around, so Dave and I headed out first to look for a cold one. We found a few cold ones at Regent's Blues, a cozy pub which seemed to have a loyal clientele, most of them seemingly here after a day's work. We were lucky to find a corner table as within minutes a queue had formed up outside and people were standing around waiting for tables to empty. There was a also a live band - well, more like a girl singing and a guy on keyboard, but they seemed popular enough with the local crowd, even though their repertoire was a bit too adult contemporary for me. But I did like the chummy atmosphere, and the music got better once the duo stopped playing (heh) so it was an enjoyable start to the evening's planned festivities.

Govin joined us for a couple more drinks, after which we left to look for an auto to take us back. We planned to stop by to have a look at India Gate on the way back, so we arranged with the auto driver to take us on such a detour. Once we got to India Gate, this is how we paid reverence at the war memorial:
Um, yeah.

We got back to the hotel and got all dressed up for a night of partying. Only problem was we had no idea where to go. The first place we went to, called My Kind of Place at the Taj Palace hotel, turned out to have closed down a couple of years back, but the hotel receptionist kindly directed us to Dublin next door at the Maurya Sheraton - in Delhi all the happening clubs are in 5-star hotels apparently.

The cover charge into Dublin was a whopping 1000Rp. However this also entitled us to 1000Rp worth of drinks from the bar. Obviously these would be a tad overpriced, but still we were able to get our money's worth, especially since the bar had apparently won awards for having a fine selection of whiskeys. There was also a dance floor with a DJ spinning R&B music, but unfortunately there wasn't a crowd building up. Some mighty fine chicks were around though - including some Middle-Eastern-looking types whom we suspected were stewardesses - but they didn't linger long. So after a couple or three shots of some superb single malt, we decided to split the scene in search of somewhere more happening.

Next stop was the Ashok Hotel, which housed two of the most happening nightspots in Delhi - Capitol and the ftv Bar. Unfortunately both places wouldn't allow us in because entrance was for couples only - I suppose being three dodgily-dressed dodgy-looking baifellas didn't help our case much either. That would turn out to be the sad reality about nightlife in Delhi - almost everywhere happening is for couples only. No doubt because everyone knows what happens when you put too many drunk Indian guys into an enclosed area. The cover charges weren't cheap either - for ftv it was 3000Rp a couple (ie S$100). I was too stunned to enquire how many drinks that covers though. But judging from the quality of the crowd going into the bar, I suppose it didn't really matter to them. And viewing the fashion on display outside the bar - while we debated our choices - this definitely looked like the place to be.

In the end we decided to just head back. It didn't look like we had many options available - we had no idea where else to go. In any case we were actually looking for a bhangra/hindi club, but it turned out that the nightlife here was more into techno/trance stuff... if we going to do that, might as well do it back in Singapore, where, judging by the prices, it was probably cheaper anyway. So we asked the concierge to help arrange for us a cab. The concierge turned out to be this extremely helpful guy, who upon finding out about our predicament, really went out of his way to find us a club that we can get into. He called up a few clubs, but they turned out to be couples-only as well. He even went down to Capitol and tried to convince them to let us in, despite me insisting that he didn't have to. Of course he probably had the notion that we were guests of the hotel, which we didn't really disabuse him off. And when he finally gave up, it was as if he was more disappointed than us - it was like he took our situation very personally. With many words of gratitude, we got into a taxi and headed back to the hotel. After all the concierge did for us, the only thing I can do is to highly recommend the Ashok if you're looking for a posh place to stay - excellent service, and the best nightspots in town. Just remember to bring a chick along.

The evening's disappointment was slightly mitigated by the experience of riding in a Maruti... but all in all, the nightlife in Delhi fell short of our expectations. The party crowd didn't, though.

Day 12: Jaipur-Delhi

Our plan this day was to explore old Jaipur on foot. Our hotel was right next to the old walled city, also called the Pink City because the walls and the buildings were all painted pink (it seemed like quite a fascination amongst Rajasthanis to have a uniform colour theme for their cities... the Amber fort and palace complex was wholly painted in - you guessed it - amber, and apparently there were more blue and red and what-have-you cities further out in the state). However, there were only three major gates of ingress into the walled section and all of them were not very close to our hotel, so we decided to take an auto there. So we flagged down a metered auto and told the guy where we were going, and he told us to hop on.

When we got down at our destination - outside the Hawa Mahal - Dave prepared to pay the driver 3x the metered amount, which was the normal going rate in India. But the driver refused to accept it and asked for more, saying his meter was broken. So the three of us got into a confrontation with the driver. He got a couple of the onlooking shopkeepers nearby to give him support, but we were adamant on paying him any more - it wasn't the amount, although at the asking price of 70Rp it was pretty steep - it was the principle of the thing... if your meter is broken, then you tell us when boarding, not at the end of the ride and then start charging us some arbitrary price. In the end Dave pretended to call the tourist police, so the guy sped off, without even taking the amount we were offering him. For the remainder of my time in Jaipur I was in constant fear of being set upon by a team of auto drivers.

The "tension of the day" session over and done with, we proceeded to explore Hawa Mahal, which turned out to be under renovation, so we didn't really get to see much. While we were inside however, the skies burst open, and Jaipur got its first downpour of the monsoon season.



A perfect day to pick for walking on the streets.

The three of us split up after Hawa Mahal to do our own thing, and planned to meet back in the hotel in three hours to pack and leave for the station. There wasn't much exploration we could do however, with the rain still pouring down. I tried to wait it out by getting a haircut, shave and head massage (nothing beats an Indian head massage after a haircut!) in a barber shop along the street. But the rain still kept on coming...

In the end I had no choice but to head back to the hotel in the rain. I let Dave and Govin have the maps since I had more or less committed the route back into my head, but I didn't account for flash floods blocking my way. So I had to take a couple of detours, which branched out into even more detours as I couldn't find my way around the floods that were seemingly besieging the section of the city I was in. Eventually I ended up walking on a fairly unwaterlogged route, only to find my way blocked once again by a huge puddle, and to retrace my route would be more time-consuming, so I just had to roll up my pants and trudge through the flash floods getting my shoes and socks thoroughly soaked in the procees. Soaked to the skin, my shoes making squishy sounds at every step, and feeling completely unhealthy, I finally got to our room, only to find our other two friends very much drier than me - apparently they weren't in the same section of town I was when the flash floods sprung up.

The bathroom was submerged in wet clothes, shoes and underthings with the fan turned on full blast as we tried to get them as dry as possible before we left. In the meantime we started packing, and Dave realized that he couldn't find the bag with his shoes in it. Even more catastrophic, that bag also had my slippers in them! You know how hard it is to find a decent pair of bata slippers these days? Apart from that, the short term effect of this development would be that I had no choice but to travel back to Delhi in my wet shoes. We figured we must have lost it when leaving the station the previous day, since that was the last time any one of us could recall seeing it. Oh well, the odds were pretty high that some possession of ours would disappear on such a long trip, so at least it was just footwear and nothing more costly.

We had our meals - I had some noodles at the hotel restaurant while Dave and Govin went for pizza next door, which took such a long time coming that they had to get it packed in the end - and headed back to the station. We had spiked one bottle of Pepsi with what remained of our Black Label, and in the station waiting room Govin bought a couple of Limcas to be spiked with the Bacardi. But of course, in between all this, we had to have our tea, which we got from the station tea stall in earthen cups.

The last train that we would take turned out to be the only train that was behind schedule - by 10 minutes. The rest of the trip back was pretty uneventful though. I have to admit that I wasn't expecting much out of our Jaipur excursion, so maybe that was why I was quite pleasantly surprised with the city - particularly the palaces and forts. In any case, our short Jaipur trip did leave me thirsting for more exploration of Rajasthan, if I ever get the opportunity in the future.

Arriving at New Delhi railway station this time, it was a short walk to Ajanta Hotel. We collapsed into the office while one of the hotel guys took Dave to show him our room. And it turned out to be a completely different room than the one we asked for - not even a suite, but a double room. Of course Dave refused to take the room, and asked the guy about the room that we were showed when we came here before, which turned out to be the only one of its kind, and it was no longer available! Dave got that guy to show him a couple more rooms - one of them was a bigger version of the suite that was showed to us before. The guy was asking for 4000Rp for it, but Dave brought it down to 3000Rp. The other one was another suite going for 2500Rp, but slightly smaller, no balcony, and only one (non-flat screen) TV. When Dave came back he told us about all this, and we discussed our options in Malay. Due to miscommunication and tiredness Govin and I voted for the 2500Rp, and I at least was under the impression that it was the same type of suite that was shown to us earlier but without a balcony. Of course when I saw it I realized it wasn't after all. I suppose on hindsight when the guy tried to show Dave that double room we should have all just walked out of the hotel and tried our chances elsewhere, but the exhaustion of the day's activities in particular, and 12 days of almost non-stop travel in general I suppose was beginning to tell, and we were in that stage where we just wanted everything over and done with, now that we were almost at the end of our trip. But it was pretty clear that we got conned good and proper, and subsequent events would reinforce this. So boys and girls, if you're looking for a nice place to stay in Delhi, Hotel Ajanta is strongly unrecommended. It may be recommended by Lonely Planet, and we did see a lot of Caucasians there, but once again like in Spars Lodge we got the feeling that because we weren't white, we got the shit treatment.

Day 11: Delhi-Jaipur

At 230am we woke up, got ready, and made our slow way to the railway station. And we couldn't find our train. Upon enquiring at the booking counter, we found out we were at the wrong railway station. Panic! We rushed out of the station (believe me, no easy thing with all those bags) and squeezed into one auto, bags and all, to make our quickest possible way to the correct station (note: 3 huge baifellas + 3 huge baifellas' huge luggage + auto driver + auto driver's uninvited friend + bad roads + crazily parked lorries = not very quick). Finally, after a nerve-wracking ride, we made it to the station in time to get on our train, which started moving shortly after that. Moral of the story: when leaving from Delhi by train, always check whether it's from Old Delhi or New Delhi.

The train we caught was actually a sleeper from Jammu, hence we got sleeping berths. And they were pretty comfortable too... nothing like a moving train to rock you to sleep. We caught up on some of our lost sleep, and it didn't seem long before we arrived in Jaipur.

At the railway station we went to the tourist office, from which we arranged transportation to our hotel as well as for the rest of the day to conduct a whirlwind tour of Jaipur. Since we'd only allowed for an overnighter, we figured this was the best way to do the city. The prices quoted were pretty affordable too (can't remember now, but think it was in the range of 2000Rp). Our first stop was our hotel, the Arya Niwas. It was mentioned in the Lonely Planet as a budget hotel, and we only opted for it because for some reason all the mid-range hotels we wanted were fully booked, so we were resigned to another Namashkar-esque hovel. Boy were we surprised...
The digs were actually pretty impressive, built to resemble a typical Indian haveli. The rooms were spacious and fully airconditioned, a boon in the hot Rajasthani summer, and with excellent plumbing to boot.. all this for a budget-level price of 1200Rp! If this was a budget hotel, it made us wonder how the mid-range hotels were like..

After dumping our bags we promptly started on our whirlwind tour. It was now 12pm, and we had roughly half a day to cover most of Jaipur's attractions, so it was going to be pretty tight. But first, we had to have the customary 90-minute lunch, after which our destination was the Jantar Mantar.



The fascination of Jantar Mantar for me is the unexpectedness of it all, to encounter such angles and curves amidst the more traditional Mughal/Hindu architecture. It's like coming across a Salvador Dali exhibition in the Vatican. The Jantar Mantar wasn't new to me however, since I've been to its Delhi cousin on my previous trip up North.

After our morning dose of weird science we headed across the road to the Jaipur palace.


Part of the palace is still cordoned off as the official Jaipur residence of the maharaja (yep there's still one, although he spends most of his time abroad these days). The rest of it has been converted to a gaggle of museums, displaying royal heirlooms such as clothing and weaponry.

We were invited to watch a short puppet show featuring not only your standard booty-shaking dancing girl, but Michael Jackson and the Devil.

Just inside the entrance, on the left and right, are the largest silver vessels in the world, as duly noted in the Guinness Book of Records. These were supposed to contain holy water from the Ganges, for the Maharaja to take along with him on his travels.


Two of the four doorways into this square, each doorway representing a season. These two were winter (hah!) and summer.

Our next destination was Jaigarh Fort, 15km further up in the hills north of Jaipur.

On the way up this security guard came up to me and tried to charge me for taking pictures on my camera - the first of many such occurences to come during the remainder of our Jaipur/Delhi travels. I refused and just said I'll keep my camera in the car, and even offered to delete my previous pictures since he kept insisting I pay. Eventually I made him go away none the richer after I kept my camera in the car. The following snaps were taken with my handphone camera.




I never got the whole deal about charging extra for cameras, which is especially outdated in the age of the cameraphone. I mean, what's the rationale behind this rule? It seems like nothing short than just another way to get tourist money. It's to the eventual detriment of the place in question, I feel, since by discouraging photography you're preventing other people from learning about its beauty and hence paying it a visit. Just another example of unproductive short-termist beauracratic greed.

The fort was also home to the biggest wheeled cannon ever built, but because of these silly rules I can't show you a pic.


It was high summer in Jaipur, with temperatures in the mid- to upper thirties. We were averaging one mineral water bottle per hour in the killing heat, and walking around the unsheltered fort were just making it worse... which was another reason (apart from the time constraints) we didn't spend too much time exploring the environs of Jaigarh. Instead we headed on to the neighbouring fort of Nahargarh.

Nahargarh was the highlight of Jaipur for me. It was exactly how I imagined an abandoned Indian palace would be... a majestic facade masking a run-down labyrinth with dark passageways and endless corridors, beauty in decay.






And to top it all, the fort offers amazing views of the sprawling city of Jaipur directly below.


The rooftop. More pictures of Nahargarh can be found here.

The fort also houses a cafe and a hotel (another place I'd love to stay in if I get the opportunity to revisit). We went to the cafe for a couple of cooling beers.
Godfather strikes again!

Next up was the third and final fort - Amber, which was also the previous home of the Maharajas before Jaipur was founded.


A settlement has mushroomed around the fort, enveloping the old gateways and lining the entrances to the fort.


The route to the fort was swarming with guides offering their services, every one of them 'students' who were doing this to fund their studies. One 'student' even stopped our car in the village to offer his services. I suppose it's up to the individual whether he/she would like to contribute to the educational standards of the population, but do keep in mind that the fort entrance offers excellent audio guides for a small amount.

The entrance to the palace.



The royal gardens.




The zenana, or royal harem.




Closing time. We made it out just in time.

As the sun started to set, we made our way back to Jaipur. Due to lack of time we had to scrap our plan to watch the sunset from one of the forts or from a rooftop cafe. Instead we had to rush back to change and get ready for our next destination. However we did have enough time to stop near the Jal Mahal (Water Palace) so that Dave could go on a camel ride, one major aim of this trip.
The water palace.



Unfortunately the camel didn't take Dave too far away from us, so we had to resume our journey with him (Dave, not the camel) along. We headed back to the hotel for a quick bath and change of clothes, after which we emerged once again to go to Chokhi Dhani.

Chokhi Dhani was a sort of theme park some 30km out of Jaipur, showcasing elements of Rajasthani culture set up as a traditional mela, or village carnival. Even the performers are actually from the villages who performed in the village melas.It was quite professionally done from very beginning, as you're greeted by a traditional song and the someone applieas a tikka (red powder) on our foreheads making us all look like dacoits.

The park itself was quite big, with every space fully utilized. The main attractions were the dance platforms, where one can find the colourful and fluid traditional Rajasthani dance performances. The performers were pretty awesome as well - being able to bend over backwards to pick a piece of paper with your eyelid is not something you see everyday. There are notices everywhere discouraging people from tipping the performers, but at the end of every performance the girls will be looking at you expectantly, so naturally we found it hard to resist giving a contribution (we tried hard! Really!). Govin even tried to take a photo with one of the girls, but in the final shot he got crowded out by the various old ladies who were doing the singing, probably wary of these foreigners getting anywhere near these girls unchaperoned.

Of course the dance performances weren't the only thing happening at Chokhi Dhani. There were also magic shows, elephant rides, games, and one surreal section that Govin and I stumbled to while walking around (Dave was in the toilet, having another dose of the runs). We were exploring the edges of the park when we stumbled across this tribal village thing with kids wearing tigerskins who handed us sticks and got us to dance with them. It was quite a strange moment, me and Govin dancing with sticks in our hands surrounded by jumping boys in tigerskins. But it must have touched a primal chord within us since it didn't take long for us to get into the groove. Sadly we couldn't linger long since Dave had emerged from the toilet and was frantically trying to reach us, probably afraid that we had left him in the deserts of Rajasthan and fled to civilization.

After exploring the environs we sat down to a traditional Rajasthani thali meal which was extremely filling, since the courses and the helpings kept on coming seemingly incessantly. Finally they let us go and we could stumble out of the park, bloated to the gills. As a microcosm of Rajasthani culture I suppose you can't beat Chokhi Dhani, and it's pretty obvious that the whole park has been designed so that everyone can extract maximum enjoyment from it. I was impressed by the orderly and disciplined manner that the whole show was being run, quite a rare find in India. All this doesn't come cheap though, at about 1200Rp per person (inclusive of meals) it was quite a high price to pay for a night's entertainment. But pricey as it was, I think it was quite worth it.

Along the way back we stopped to get a bottle of Coke so as to finish up our bottle of Black Label that we had brought from Singapore. The Black Label had been a source of nourishment on our many train rides, as one of us would try to sneak of as unconspicuously as possible to the coach toilet or a quiet spot on a railway platform to pour some Black Label into previously bought Coke or Pepsi bottles. Of course in such undercover missions some spillage was bound to happen, but most of the time we tried to ensure that as little as possible went to waste. And so that we did not remain dry once the Black Label was over, enroute to Chokhi Dhani we had also bought a bottle of Bacardi. Sufficiently stocked, we could satisfactorily look back that night on what had indeed been a most productive and eventful day.

Day 10: Simla-Delhi

When checking out from Spars Lodge that morning the proprietor was trying to get us to pay extra for the suite he gave us on the first night, while apologizing and admitting his mistake. I was completely against paying anything more from the very beginning, since I didn't believe we should be paying for his screw-up. But Dave, playing the good guy (I have no idea why, since there weren't any chicks around) paid him 100Rp extra for that night. In any case, I strongly recommend against Spars Lodge if you're going to Simla - to me it seems as if they thought they could get away with 2nd-class treatment of us simply because we weren't Caucasians. Instead, I strongly recommend Harsha Hotel, as I mentioned previously - classy yet cheap.

And so we headed down to the train station.

There was a brief moment of confusion when we realized our tickets did not have seat numbers on it. Turned out our seat allocations are given on the spot at the ticket counter - just like a budget flight, heh.

We boarded our coach and bid our farewells to Simla.
... yeah, and these guys to, whoever they may be.

We didn't do much in Simla apart from a couple of strolls into the city, but I thoroughly enjoyed my time there... mostly I suppose because I loved the idea of Simla itself - a colonial city in the mist high up in the mountains - and it was maintained well enough for this idea to make its impression. Oh, and the girls are beautiful - but who pays attention to those kind of things, eh?


Our train itself was called a 'toy train'. The coaches were your typical domestic type, and passengers seat 2 to a bench facing each other, with barely enough space for luggage - we had to pile most of our bags at one end of the coach, blocking the entrance at that end. So when people had to make use of that entrance the person next to it had to shift the bags around, and we had to keep an eye in case our bags don't get carried out. Our companions were the typical mixed bag you find in this type of journeys - a tourist couple, local couples including newlyweds, a group of students, a very quiet guy stuck next to a bullying type... 40 passengers, 40 stories.

The Simla-Kalka railway route is known for its surrounding scenery, and was itself quite an impressive feat of engineering - more info can be found here. If you have 6 hours to spare, it's probably the bext way to cover the 96km journey.

Stopping for tea along the way.



One of the many zig-zags enroute.

Approaching our destination Kalka.

From Kalka we took a more conventional train to Delhi, this 2nd leg taking another 5 hours. By the time we arrived it was close to 11pm. Since we had an early departure the following day, we decided to lodge in good ol' Hotel Namashkar for the few hours in between. After checking in and an hour's internet time at the cafe nearby, we tucked in at 1am for an hour and half's shut-eye before waking up at 230am to get ready for our 5am train.