It takes us 12 hours to reach Jaipur; 1 hour drive to Banglore airport, 3 hours to New Delhi, then two legs in a little turboprop through Udaipur to Jaipur. Meet our driver, Vijay, at the airport. Vijay turns out to be great: the best driver we've had in India. Sarcasm, dry humor, irony. All of these are in short supply in India, but Vijay is a journeyman of each. Plus, he knows where he is going, which is not a given among drivers here.
Most places we've traveled in India, we've encountered very few westerners other than business travelers. Jaipur is one of the few places we see a lot tourists. It is definitely the most tourist-friendly city to which we've been in this country.
One of the comedic highlights of our trip comes early, when we watch an old man in a turban stop along the sidewalk and start scolding a rat. It seems silly, but the interaction was sincere in a way that made it impossibly funny.
We get in with just enough time to check into our room and find a great meal served in a courtyard. Everywhere we go there are men playing sitars and hand drums. We eat outside under a pomegranate tree and stars are visible.
The next morning we rise relatively early (we are in the car by ten) and go to the Monkey Temple, where we climb through quite a bit of elevation to a great vantage above Jaipur. Along the way, there are three pools, the highest eventually flowing into the lowest. We are each at a loss to explain why the monkeys are swimming at the highest pool, while the humans are bathing at the lower level. Women wash themselves without disrobing, splashing water over their bright saris. We feed monkeys bananas. The monkeys steal clothes from nearby clotheslines and there are trousers and saris strewn about.
We also go to the Amber Fort, the City Palace, the Astronomical Observatory. All of these are major sites in Jaipur. The girls shop for silver and pashminas.
One thing the guidebook recommends is a trip to a slum where their cottage industry is making puppets. Against my and A's better judgment, we go there. We walk into the slum, sit down and buy puppets. We are offered and accept chai from the proprietor; each of us fake drinking it but swallow none and worry about even touching the metal cups to our lips. It is terrible in there. A stands outside and Vijay sort of acts as security.
Vijay is obviously skeptical of the whole thing. We have learned that Vijay and his family are Brahmin - a very high caste - and therefore Vijay very likely considers everyone in this slum untouchable. After a few minutes there, I am inclined to agree. This is one of several events we have planned that Vijay finds dubious.
After Vijay several times rolls his eyes or otherwise indicates his distaste for things we want to do, we decide he is indispensable and tell him we want him to drive us to Amanbagh. This is a group that values open criticism of one another; celebrates it, in fact. For Vijay, getting to drive us to Amanbagh is great. He tells us that the drivers' quarters and food there are top notch.
Our second evening we find a great rooftop bar, where local twentysomethings hang out. We smoke sheesha (traditional tobacco from a hookah) and drink Kingfishers. We feel like hip Jaipuris. The music is good, downtempo dance music. Afterward, we eat Peshwari (Pakistani) cuisine. The lamb we have is the best I've ever eaten.
The next day, after our shopping and sightseeing, we book a reservation at a restaurant our guidebook describes as both "a hidden gem" and a "foodie's paradise." It is hidden, in that no one is there when we arrive; we eat utterly alone on a rooftop. It is not a foodie's paradise, however. It is a thali restaurant, which is just a step above a buffet in the hierarchy of Indian cuisine. However, the view is beautiful and there is a wedding going on below, so we get a good look at a Jaipuri reception.
The next morning we leave for Amanbagh.
Most places we've traveled in India, we've encountered very few westerners other than business travelers. Jaipur is one of the few places we see a lot tourists. It is definitely the most tourist-friendly city to which we've been in this country.
One of the comedic highlights of our trip comes early, when we watch an old man in a turban stop along the sidewalk and start scolding a rat. It seems silly, but the interaction was sincere in a way that made it impossibly funny.
We get in with just enough time to check into our room and find a great meal served in a courtyard. Everywhere we go there are men playing sitars and hand drums. We eat outside under a pomegranate tree and stars are visible.
The next morning we rise relatively early (we are in the car by ten) and go to the Monkey Temple, where we climb through quite a bit of elevation to a great vantage above Jaipur. Along the way, there are three pools, the highest eventually flowing into the lowest. We are each at a loss to explain why the monkeys are swimming at the highest pool, while the humans are bathing at the lower level. Women wash themselves without disrobing, splashing water over their bright saris. We feed monkeys bananas. The monkeys steal clothes from nearby clotheslines and there are trousers and saris strewn about.
We also go to the Amber Fort, the City Palace, the Astronomical Observatory. All of these are major sites in Jaipur. The girls shop for silver and pashminas.
One thing the guidebook recommends is a trip to a slum where their cottage industry is making puppets. Against my and A's better judgment, we go there. We walk into the slum, sit down and buy puppets. We are offered and accept chai from the proprietor; each of us fake drinking it but swallow none and worry about even touching the metal cups to our lips. It is terrible in there. A stands outside and Vijay sort of acts as security.
Vijay is obviously skeptical of the whole thing. We have learned that Vijay and his family are Brahmin - a very high caste - and therefore Vijay very likely considers everyone in this slum untouchable. After a few minutes there, I am inclined to agree. This is one of several events we have planned that Vijay finds dubious.
After Vijay several times rolls his eyes or otherwise indicates his distaste for things we want to do, we decide he is indispensable and tell him we want him to drive us to Amanbagh. This is a group that values open criticism of one another; celebrates it, in fact. For Vijay, getting to drive us to Amanbagh is great. He tells us that the drivers' quarters and food there are top notch.
Our second evening we find a great rooftop bar, where local twentysomethings hang out. We smoke sheesha (traditional tobacco from a hookah) and drink Kingfishers. We feel like hip Jaipuris. The music is good, downtempo dance music. Afterward, we eat Peshwari (Pakistani) cuisine. The lamb we have is the best I've ever eaten.
The next day, after our shopping and sightseeing, we book a reservation at a restaurant our guidebook describes as both "a hidden gem" and a "foodie's paradise." It is hidden, in that no one is there when we arrive; we eat utterly alone on a rooftop. It is not a foodie's paradise, however. It is a thali restaurant, which is just a step above a buffet in the hierarchy of Indian cuisine. However, the view is beautiful and there is a wedding going on below, so we get a good look at a Jaipuri reception.
The next morning we leave for Amanbagh.
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| Guidebook suggested a trip to a slum where the local cottage industry | was puppets. |
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