Jaipur

We arrived in Jaipur after a fairly sleepless night on the train as Kim again sees a mouse!  I think mouse= no roaches and would prefer that but nonetheless it is a fairly dirty old train and the aircon particularly violent occasioning frozen gonads.

As usual there are no announcements or anything to let you know you have arrived at your destination, when this happens at 05:00 and you've had a sleepless night it's a lot bloody worse than missing the station name at Rowlands castle  I can tell you!!  Bleary eyed we bundle from the train PDQ and out into the hassle of the rickshaw rank.  As usual the driver has no idea where we're trying to get to and I direct him with the merest of hints from the owner post a quick phone call.

We get to our accom pretty quick and Bhim Villas proves the perfect base for exploration.  Very plush, clean and spacious.  In particular there's a wonderful lounge/kitchen dining area to sit out in and the owner is really hospitable.  Turns out they've only been in business a week or so and  we're made right at home with a brekky and coffee and shower and soon the nightmare train trip is fading into memory and we're up for an explore.

We charge out into the Jaipur traffic, it's sheer bloody hell as usual and virtually impossible to negotiate on foot.  We set up a tour of the sights and arrange our onward travel. All down through the market  which runs for miles in all directions you're crushed into minimal space through which Indian drivers insist on driving at full speed with a hand on the horn as the only indication of anything.  On top of this they're broadcasting Indian radio at ear splitting volume through a tannoy system it's bloody mayhem.

Jaipur really doesn't have much to offer. everything is more expensive than just about anywhere else in India we've seen so far and the Indians here show the usual disregard for the upkeep of the very things that bring visitors to their country in the first place.  Everything is pretty much run down and surrounded by garbage and Sh*t. You travel god knows how far to see a "beautiful palace" and when you get there there's a sea of shit and rubbish around it, the moat full of busted cars, nappies and god knows what all floating in it, the stench unbearable.

The banks and indeed many shops have interesting security measures which revolve mainly around having a "big bloke" and a shotgun in constant attendance, some of 'em don't look to stable either.

Open letter to "The Manager"  Lloyds Bank Denmead Village centre

 Sir

Recently while traveling in India I noted a practice which may be of benefit to you.  Many banks there have a stool located next to the ATM machine.  This is for the comfort of a uniformed guard who sits here with a presumably loaded double barrel shotgun across his lap.  While the shift patterns in India may leave something to be desired (On one occasion said guard was fast asleep,  his head thrown back, emitting snores like a bull elephant; with his finger on the triggers of the weapon; I took my business elsewhere in case I should startle him awake with calamitous results) you may consider it in the village as an aid to combatting card fraud.

I remain yours

   Colonel Blandford Fly

Diwali has just reached its climax and we take a trip through the streets of Jaipur in a pedal rickshaw.  It's a staggering spectacle.  Sure its ramshackle and all held together with sticky tape so not of Vegas proportions but for sheer garish colour and creativity it beats about anything I've ever seen.

It's great to get calls from Rob and Lynne and Derek and Terry today (thank you thankyou thankyou!!!) sooo nice to hear friendly familiar voices, we miss everyone! Trips up to the famous fort are worth doing for the views across the City, but pay a cabbie direct.  All the "organised" drivers etc insist on stopping at their aunts, uncles, brothers export emporiums where you're given the hard sell.  Our cabbie tried it but we refused to get out of the car, the guys in the shop started bringing stuff out!!

"Look we'd just be wasting your time" we insist

"We have plenty of time" they counter

"We haven't so drive the f*ck on or we won't pay you"

Works every time!

We booked seats on a "Deluxe Bus" at the local bus station to take us to Bharatpur midway between here and Agra.  At Bharatphur there's a worldclass bird/wildlife park and as its "on the way" we go for it.

The bus station is complete mayhem, great queues and scrums of people are everywhere screaming and chattering away and it takes an heroic effort to find out how to get our ticket and then actually force our way to the ticket booth to make the purchase.

After another fun packed night in Jaipur we cram ourselves and our "Ruckies" into a pedal rickshaw.  The poor old sod huffs and puffs through the early morning traffic and fumes with us and all our gear precariously piled on his contraption.  It's all we can do to stop ourselves jumping off and pushing everytime we hit an incline, but guess the geezer is well practiced at making it all seem like hard work and we tip him well. ("try for a better education")

If it was mayhem buying the ticket, finding the bus is a bloody education!!  There does not appear to be a system.  Buses hammer up through the smog, grind to a halt, a full load of passengers is screamed at till they scrum off the bus, at the same time a scrum of passengers is being screamed at to scrum on.  Goods (Chickens rice and godknowswhatall) and luggage are crammed everywhere, all this times 20-30 buses in frying heat and dust, utter pandemonium.

Eventually a straggly little geezer scurries up, he looks like a sack of laundry.

"Bharatpur?" he says grabbing our bags

"Yes" we say to his back, as he disappears into a throng of milling passengers with all we own on his head.

By the time we find the bus and laundry boy, our luggage is "safe". We suggest he opens the luggage holder so we can check.  It's all OK the bus looks like a long month old dunmpling thats been soaked in gravy and allowed to dry in the sun.

Deluxe bus means

(a)Up until two months ago the bus was legally a chicken coop.

(b) You get a seat

(c) You don't have to share it with a crate of angry faced, obvious bottomed, genital manipulating monkeys.

The bus trip lasts a back challenging 5 hours but the views of some of rural Rhadjastan are wonderful.  The trees, farm buildings, stoops of crops drying and the smell of woodsmoke would almost place you back at home, but instead of pheasants we have peacocks, and instead of horses we have camels.

About 20 mins before we get to Bharatpur we hit roadworks, they are going on for about 30Ks in every direction from the place and the dust is just appalling.  Vis must be down to about 10-20 meters and dust gets everywhere, we're blowing it out of our noses for days.

The bus stand here as at Jaipur is utter chaos with vehicles ploughing through thick dust kicking up choking couds of the stuff added to which it's getting dark, headlights are on full and as usual the Indian drivers only means of communicating anything to anyone is to cover the horn. Kim is virtually assaulted on the bus stand when a greasy little turd sidles up, gropes her ass and stands staring at her while playing with himself, the toady little shite is obviously deranged (not that Kims ass isn't gropable mind!) we get in a rickshaw and head out to where the hotels are.

After a pretty dismal night in a somewhat damp hotel room following a (Chefs special) soup that was obviously packet stuff we go to the wildlife park and see wonderful things!

70 rs gets you a guide for an hour and we take on Sanjay for 5 hours and he shows us so much we would have walked past.  Huge storks are here despite the comparative failure of the monsoon and we see eagles, kites kingfishers, woodpeckers, deer, jackle, gazzelle, mongoose the usual monkeys etc all up close and all on foot (us that is), a really great day.  On the way back to our hotel we pass the Birders Inn where the twitchers go to prepare notes after a days spotting, we see two rare birds actually inside the building and rush in..............Kingfishers they were..............

in litre bottles.....

Ice cold!!

Next morning we trudge through the thick dust and sticky, stinking heat to hop an "ordinary bus" for the trip to Agra.  Hop literally for Kim, as the bus didn't so much stop as hesitate, and Kim had a bit of a struggle to stay on, what with the bus moving and her carrying an enormous rucksack

Ordinary bus means

(a) The vehicle is still technically a chicken coop with a wheel at each corner and a sporadically functioning engine added.

(b) you get no garaunteed seat

(c) Sharing any seat you do get with a crate of angry faced, obvious bottomed, genital manipulatimg monkeys is obligatory.

I notice early on that in front of my seat there is a hole around 10 inches by six through which I can watch the road roar by underneath.  I could have passed the time to Agra counting white lines were it not for the fact that our driver spent virtualy the entire journey on the wrong side of the road.  I lost count of the number of near death experiences he dealt out to on coming road users.

I assumed this was common practice but discerned beads of sweat running down the foreheads of a few fellow travellers, at one point as the bus seemed to bend in three places to avoid a camel cart, bullock and on coming truck the man next to me almost leapt from his seat.  Some 10 years of being driven by messrs Atwood, Allen and Joyce kept me ln good stead! I held my nerve.

We got to a level crossing on the outskirts of Agra where a traffic intersection meant we were stopped right on the railway tracks as traffic merged from the right ahead and from our left in a four way junction plus railtrack.  We'd already been stopped there for some time when a couple of buses pulled across trying to get from the right lane ahead to the lane on our left..........

then some rickshaws......lots of pedestrians.....

"hmmm, we've been on this railway track quite a while" I thought

..... some handcarts... more cars.......another bus........

a herd of cows......

To help matters all of the drivers at this point sounded their horns.......this had the same predictable effect on the cattle as the possible proximity of the Jodphur/Agra non stop express was having on me.........