(John) Much as I actually quite liked the hotel we stayed at in Jaipur, I hated the bed. The mattresses were no softer than a slab of concrete. We were all complaining of sore hips in the morning and Lesley had the worst nights sleep of the trip to date. The owner asked me to post a review to the Lonely Planet Guide (LPG). Hmm, I'll have to think about that. Travelling around India it is clear that the LPG is the Oracle. Every backpacker has one. Even Korean and Japanese tourists are seen with translating devices trying to figure out the words. It is pretty easy to pick up English versions as you travel but I'm sure Japanese versions are harder to come by. If a business makes the guide it will invariably let you know on it's sign. And if they are not in the guide then they always claim that they are too new. Having made the guide usually means that prices go up. We usually find that prices for hotels are substantially higher than the LPG lists. It's clear that once in the LPG any hotel or restaurant is assured of getting foreign customers and can charge more.
Jaipur had it's challenges. Right after Lesley's bout of the runs I was hit with a 36 hour headache. It began the morning we left for Jaipur and ended the day we left. We arrived in Jaipur quite early, finding a hotel wasn't easy Lesley was still a bit off her game after her brief illness and I was getting gradually worse. Our first choice, the Pearl Palace proved to be too expensive, they wanted 1200 IR for what was a pretty nice room. But they let us leave our bags there and we walked off to find something cheaper, it proved a lot harder than we expected but we did manage to get a place for 700IR. Once we settled in I went to bed and everybody else went to find lunch. I hope that that the kids will tell that story, Mhari and Sam had the Thali that never wanted to end. After lunch Mhari needed a break from the hustle and bustle so she stayed with me. Lesley and Sam went back out and returned later with tales of crazy pushy merchants and adventures on cycle rickshaws. I manged to get on my feet and went with them for supper. Despite, or maybe because of the rock hard beds we all slept in. Our hotel was set back from the main street, so was fairly quiet. Out of our window we had a view of a large garden with a bed, and old woman, some very dry grass, a few pots and pans and a cow. It could have been the ear plugs that I wear to bed 80% of the time but I think the hotel was really quiet.
So we had breakfast at a nearby Mohan restaurant (there are a few Mohans in Jaipur) then found a rickshaw willing to take us to the Hawa Mahal which Sam and Lesley had seen the day before. It is a building for women with impressive stone screens, then we went to a shoe shop where Mhari bought some shoes. Sam enjoyed taking us to a couple of the stores that had been so crazy the day before. Jaipur is certainly a busy city but in a lot of places there are sidewalks along covered walkways that make getting around a little easier. Sam wanted to visit Jantar Mantar, an astrological park. An outdoor museum of huge instruments designed to measure the earths relationship to the stars, planets and the sun. It was advertized outside as half price to students, but they would not admit Sam and Mhari as such because they didn't have student I.D. cards. Passports which have proof of age were not enough. Lesley argued their case but got nowhere at the turnstile so we had to pay the 100 IR full price. But she insisted on taking it up with the supervisor inside and ended up writing a letter to his supervisor to further voice her complaint. It appears that the free student thing was pretty new and not without some flaws.
The park was a nice place to be and we spent a long time there, but really, for me anyway, it was a good way to escape the crowds. We also found a minaret to walk up and took some good pictures of the hills that surround Jaipur on three sides. We acquired a guide for it. It would have been impossible not to. He was more a nuisance though as he had his own idea of what we wanted to see and do and in what order and insisted that we do it his way. To his credit he did not actually ask for any money though. Because of that Lesley gave him 10 IR. We had a great lunch at another Mohans. Really good Chana Masala and chapattis cooked in a tandoori oven. Lesley got a great picture of the boys that cooked it for us. We stumbled upon a jeweller that sold only fake jewelry. The fake silver looked great so Lesley and Mhari picked out a few things. We also found a man selling notebooks and post cards, from whom we also bought a new SD card and a AA battery charger to help us live with our back up camera. (Did I mention the new batteries from the battery man in Jodhpur are already almost dead?) Our other one, that we have learned to love, refused to cooperate, telling us that there was a system focus error. However that same day I got it out of the back and just kept turning it on and off over and over again and that must have dislodged whatever was causing the problem and now we seem to have it back working again. This may sound very boring but we were so relieved we had to go out and celebrate. So we went to the movies. We went to the famous (according to the LPG) Raj Mandir and saw Patialla House. A Bollywood film set in Southall, London England. The dialogue was mostly in Hindi with quite a bit of English thrown in. It was a blast. All about a man who was offered the chance to play cricket for England but whose father was embittered by racist Britain and refused to allow him to be selected for the English team. While sport was indeed featured highly it was still really a love story and all about the clothes, the jewels, the music and the dancing. Being in Hindi meant we missed the nuances of some of the best jokes but not much else. The theatre itself was spectacular. We bought tickets from outside for 80 IR each ($2 CAD). These were Emerald tickets in the middle of the theatre. The cheapest seats were in the Ruby section near the screen for 60 IR and the most expensive seats were 150 IR in the Diamond section at the back. We even bought popcorn and drinks before and at the intermission – when was the last time you had an intermission at the movies? Popcorn was 25 IR or about 63 cents. The theatre was not at all full. We had thought from the LPG description that we would have to fight for a seat but it could not have been easier. When we did have to get assertive was in the area outside the cinema where rickshaw drivers and street hawkers were a royal pain in the backside. We had to dive into the next door McDonalds to escape in order to think about what we wanted to do next. There is such intense competition for business and people are often desperate that to say 'no thank you' is an invitation to enter into negotiation. In Jaipur, to a rickshaw driver, it is usually necessary to say something like "I said no, now leave us alone".
I woke up today without a headache. After breakfast we walked to the bus station with our bags and hung around until we saw a bus we liked the look of and was going the right way, or so we were told and we got on it. We paid our pittance and rode along for three hours with a short break until we arrived in Ajmer. The road to Ajmer was fast and wide and smooth. There were no cows of other livestock and no rickshaws. We were able to cram our packs into the luggage racks and so had just about enough room to get comfortable. In Ajmer we decided not to rush on to Pushkar, our goal for the day, but to linger a while, have lunch and see what Ajmer had to offer the traveller. We left our luggage in the left luggage room, ate lunch at a tiny stall by the station – another unexpected delight – talked a rickshaw driver down to 50 IR and went to see the Lake. Again not quite what we expected. The lake seemed to be above the town as we had to go up to get to it. But it is a man made reservoir so it makes sense. There was a park around one side of it that was very pleasant and free too – even better – we were the only foreigners we could see so as it was Saturday and people were out to have fun we became a source of amusement as we were asked to be in photographs ( Actually Sam, Mhari and Lesley were asked to be in photographs, I was just ignored – which suited me fine). This time we were happy to oblige until we realised that it was all a ploy to get us to vacate the spot where we were sitting in the shade. So we left the park and the lake went back to the bus station where a man told us he could drive us to Pushkar for “very cheap price” I told him politely that we were getting the bus. He told me that the buses to Pushkar were all no good and continued to pester me until I told him to get lost. We quickly found a nice looking government bus going to Pushkar and 30 minutes later we were there. If I make it sound easy it is because it is. Getting a hotel in Pushkar was a matter of telling the cycle rickshaw guys to buzz off so we could discuss which direction we wanted to go in, then walking in to the first three grim looking hotels we found (no point going to the fancy looking ones, we can't afford them) and picking the cheapest, or at least the best value option, which I hope we have done. So far so good. We have two rooms for 250 IR each. I'm sharing with Sam. Pushkar is pretty easy going, there are only a couple of rickshaws, too many flaming motorbikes but very few cars on the narrow streets that are packed with tourist friendly merchants and the town is full of foreigners. There are also tons of cows and pigs, dogs, cats, monkeys and camels. Like a strange farm but with shops, pilgrims and hippies everywhere. The main reason people come to Pushkar is because it is a holy place. Surrounding a central lake there are over a hundred temples and even as I write this after midnight I can hear chanting from across the ghats. Time for the earplugs.
The next day we were up pretty early and went for a walk down to the ghats to see the Lake. Now, Sam, Mhari and I had read about the 'Pushy Priests of Pushkar' who work on tourists to make substantial contributions to the temples. We weren't quite prepared for how fast it all happens. As soon as we stepped past the barrier we were given petals by a child who led us to men who greeted us and asked us to come. We came and were then led to the lakeside where we were separated from each other and asked to sit down. We were all a few yards apart. My greeter told me he was a priest and that there were 1000 temples around the lake (a huge exaggeration) and they needed help from English people to continue their charity work. He then went through a long series of blessings and rituals to bring health and wealth and good luck to all my family members. We repeated a lot of mantras until we had to fill in the blank - I will give 'X' rupees to the Brahmin Temple. My priest was confusing to follow and I was well prepared to be asked for money but not expecting to have to tell him how much I was prepared to give. When I couldn't give the required response to the 'X' amount statement, he went back a few mantras and took another run at the I will give 'X' rupees statement. I asked what he wanted but he wouldn't tell me and kept going back to the statement. I offered to make a donation at the Temple but he said no I have to give the money to him now. I said I didn't want to do that but he insisted, so I suggested a pretty low sum of 50 rupees. He said “no 50 rupees” He was pretty upset so I said OK if you don't want it that's fine with me and I got up and left. By this time I had a mark on my forehead, a handful of flowers and a coconut that I handed back to him. I think the blessings didn't go through so apologies to any family members who don't now have a happy successful life. Mhari was sitting a couple of yards a way and looking very unsure of the situation so I told her that it was OK to leave if she wasn't comfortable. She got up straight away. Sam and Lesley looked like they were in control and I left them to it. The priest followed me out to where I had left my shoes and tried to explain that it wasn't for him it was for charity and I should give to the charity. I said I give lots to charity and will continue to do so but not like this. I was accused of laughing at him. I said I don't think what you just did to me and my family is funny at all. I think it is offensive. He then told me to leave. Mhari told me that her priest went through a very similar process with her but he did not insist on getting money right away he wanted her to promise how much money she would give in the Temple but she wouldn't make any promises. Soon Lesley and Sam appeared. Lesley's priest had been less pushy and she had told him that she could not say how much she would give without discussing first with her husband and just said “undisclosed amount”. Her priest was OK with that and she finished the process and even got her little red string bracelet – the Pushkar passport – and got full blessings. Sam's priest was as pushy as mine. He offered 7 rupees because that was all he had in his pocket. His priest told him to borrow money from his dad. Sam even offered 50 rupees but that was not enough. He did not get his passport because he was told 7 rupees was not enough. His priest said if you wear the passport we won't bother you again. Sam's process stopped when his priest realised that Sam had no money to give. Although he had at least 200 IR in his money belt.
I guess that I have to accept this is a clash of cultures and values. My priest probably saw me as a divine gift and an opportunity for him to do something for his community by helping me to see how much good I could do if I gave generously. I just felt like he thought I was a walking wallet. I'm also weary of the demands from merchants who have aggressively harangued us in India. Besides, how was he to know I was just a tight fisted irreligious sceptic. I wasn't happy that they separated us and then tried to extort money out of my children. They might have thought that our kids were a lot older than they are and quite capable and wealthy enough to make their own decisions and did not even consider that I might have a problem with that. Lesley had a good experience and went back to give a small donation to her priest which he accepted graciously and apologised for the other priests behaviour. He said some people are just interested in money. Looking back and trying to be culturally competent and understanding of differences in values and taking into account the wealth disparities between India and the west I am still less inclined to think of the experience that Sam and I had as a cultural/religious experience gone wrong than as a well practised scam that didn't go as planned. Sam and Lesley visited the Brahmin temple later that day and had fun tossing sweets and flowers to various shrines and were not hassled at all.
Leaving Pushkar involved a hilarious bus trip to Ajmer in a jam packed bus. Lesley had a friendly female farmer virtually sitting on her and I managed to make a little boy cry by making my sunglasses jiggle up and down from behind my ears. Getting off that bus was a challenge as we had to clamber over all the people and their sacks. Our next bus was full and we had assigned seats. But they were at the front with no legroom and in front of me 9 inches away was a man siting on the window ledge between the passengers and the driver, completely blocking my view and airflow and preventing me from moving my legs or head in any direction. This hell lasted for 90 minutes. When he got off I was able to dangle my legs over the ledge and lounge back in my seat. Lesley wasn't much better off being between me and the widow that would not open and sun blazing in. Mhari on my left thought she had it worst but got no sympathy from Lesley and I and Sam was sitting pretty across the aisle with extra leg room and a huge open window on the shady side of the bus. The situation did not last thankfully and for the second half of the bus ride we were able to get more comfortable and quit complaining. By the time we arrived in Bundi we were all pretty exhausted, except for Sam. Getting off the bus was almost impossible. We had to wrestle our packs out of the luggage racks by which time although people were still getting off, other people were shoving to get on through the one narrow entrance. Sam was first in line and failed to get off a few times, he followed an Indian family who pushed their way off. Mhari was just behind Sam and had to push a man's arm away to keep her ground. I was next and being a bit more imposing than most in India and holding a large pack in front of me I just used my weight to barge my way off, I probably left some bruises I don't know but what the heck. Lesley was behind me and has no need to dramatize the event and says she just went off the bus and pushed through people. I had intended to shop around at a lot of hotels as they were all close together, but we took the first room offered as it was cheap. Our host was a pretty old man who was very hard of hearing. Once we finally agreed on a deal it took a good 45 minutes to check in as he wrote up every passport detail and we filled out all the forms. Since the bombing in Bombay the required paperwork to rent a hotel room is exhaustive. Passport number, Visa number, issue/expiry and place of issue for both, next destination, last destination, and home address have to be written for each person and signed by each person. Then half the time our passports are taken to a nearby shop to be photocopied. The place we are in is far from ideal, but it has a nice garden area and a quiet restaurant right outside the room. Today we ate while the cook chased away all the monkeys trying to join us for lunch. I voted to stick with it because I like ordering food and then going to lie down while it is prepared, the monkeys are hilarious and the paperwork to move to a new hotel is laborious.
We saw the Fort today and the funniest thing that happened was, as we walked to the entrance a man offered to rent us thick bamboo canes to use to ward off aggressive monkeys. He was only asking 10 IR each so we took 2, then 20 yards later and in clear view of the stick renter we saw a bucket of similar sticks available for free. Unfortunately, in India you are only allowed to whack the real monkeys.
