PALACE ON WHEELS. RAJASTHAN - INDIA ( Part 3 )

4th - 11th Jan 2012

Day 4. Jaisalmer. The Golden City.





We awoke the next morning in the desert country of west Rajasthan, the Thar desert, within 90 miles of Pakistan, and were welcomed off the train by the usual reception committee of guards, ladies doling out flowers and red splodges and the local band. The military guards wore the fashionable 'mohican' style turban. Jaisalmer, founded in 1156 by a Rajput leader called, unsurprisingly, Jaisal, is a bit of a lonely outpost and initially relied on looting the camel-train routes from India to Central Asia for it's income. Now it just legitimately loots the tourists.




Right: The band












Left: Amit and Rebecca having been flowered and painted. Amit's father, Bill, was also in GG and because he and I were two 'singlies' we were often paired up for things ( like the elephant ride at Jaipur ). Bill is another doctor, a GP, from Michigan, USA. There was no shortage of medical assistance on this train should it be needed.










Our guide today was a remarkably smooth and affable chap who wore diamond ear-studs. We were taken initially to a lake ( or reservoir ) with a 'chatri' ( summerhouse ) just off-shore and I can't remember the significance of it. There were numerous hawkers following us around like this chap ( right ) selling necklaces. Who on earth would want to buy a necklace? I had often wondered what had become of my old mate Dave Woods! I thought he was in the south of France.









Left: The fort at Jaisalmer is quite an imposing sight.
It towers over the town and actually has a thriving community living inside it. It is a popular venue for the more 'hippyish' travellers and so there are also many low price hostels and cafes advertising western style food and strange herbal teas. The drug 'bangh' ( not sure of the spelling ), our guide told us, is legally sold in shops here, which might appeal to the 'travellers'. I believe it has hallucinogenic properties and although we were all egging each other on to buy some and try it, I don't think anyone risked it. There was talk of slipping some into Mr Mouse's 'tea or caffee'.

Right: One of the entrances to the fort. There were four narrow gates to pass through up a winding path; a good ploy to make it difficult for invaders. Inside is  a maze of narrow streets and loads of small shops, rather like a Moroccan 'souk'. The tiny narrow streets have many blasted cows loitering around in them and the concomitant piles of manure to trap the unwary pedestrian. The place was a regular bovine minefield and one saw several people ( not the locals of course ) hopping about on one leg trying to scrape off the offending muck. Of course there were little boys with rags and brushes, strategically placed, who raced up and offered to clean the soiled shoes for a few rupees within nano-seconds. It was all a carefully choreographed and well rehearsed scam. I saw three of our GG hopping up and down and then forking out for this service.


Left: The central square inside the fort. This is the palace where the ruler held forth. It has been long since abandoned but is kept in good enough nick with much financial support from world heritage bodies, we were told.
I noticed many massage parlours, fast food shops and internet cafes, so there is obviously a big demand from the passing 'traveller' trade staying in the fort.






Right: As was becoming the norm, these two gents, Barry and Trevor Singh, doing the 'season' in Jaisalmer, sat in their colourful traditional robes and made-up to the nines expecting their photo to be taken, as it duly was, and then getting some rupees stuffed into their copper pots. Its a foolproof way of making a living ( with enough tourists around ). This pair of bandidos rather overdid it by appearing in different places ahead of our group as we moved through the fort! It was a classic example of the law of diminishing returns.


We were shown into a couple of 'shoes off' Jain Temples ( as per left ). It was explained but I didn't fully grasp what a 'Jain' is; some form of Hindu I think. However their temples are magnificent examples of quite incredibly complex stone carving. Every square inch of yellow sandstone is subjected to intricately engraved patterns. Maybe Jains spend a lot of time sitting inside with a hammer and chisel and bugger all else to do. A bit like auto-compulsive masonic doodling.



Right: A view over the golden city from the fort. Actually this was taken from the roof terrace of a very smart hotel in the fort. They must cater for some very wealthy hippies.









 Left: An example of one of several 'havelies'. These were the homes of wealthy merchants and are highly decorated with intricately carved sandstone walls, both outside and in. They took many years to construct and, I presume, were a way of showing off your wealth if you had it. We were 'guided' into one of these for another 'shopping opportunity'; this time for silk tablecloths, pashmina shawls, bedspreads, scarves etc., all very beautiful I'm sure and they told us that they had contracts with places like Hermes in Paris, but we could get them here much cheaper, of course. I know that several of GG were keen to buy. I suspect that some of GG are compulsive shoppers. I did a runner. Then returned because I quickly realised I didn't know my way back to the bus! To get out of that fort unaided would be like trying to find your way out of Hampton Court maze, and anyway someone said they had moved the buses. They were devilish cunning.

Right: A girl spent ages walking, running, sliding, skipping and hopping up and down this tight-rope with some brass dishes on her head. She certainly had stamina. I suppose one was meant to contribute, but I stayed too far away. I'm sure that bloke standing in front is the same guy ( Jagdesh, ex-AAC ) I photographed outside the smart hotel ( doorman ) and at the railway station ( bongos ) in Delhi. Is he following me?





From the fort in Jaisalmer we drove off for about an hour westwards into the desert. This was to some encampments where we were to embark on a camel ride. We paired up again; me with my mate Dr Bill and mounted up, or rather sat on the sitting down camel and it stood up. I think they are particularly unattractive creatures. Left: Amit and  Rebecca on their 'Ship of the Desert'.
It turned out to be quite a long ( 40 minute ) ride across the sand dunes in a sort of loosely formed camel train. There were hundreds of other punters around us, so not quite Lawrence of Arabia. More like donkeys on Blackpool beach. Ours was a particularly slow model, or it may have been due to the load factor. I asked the lad leading our camel what it was called. He replied "Fidel Castro". What an extraordinary name for a camel, we thought, and asked him why. He said "because all the others are called Michael Jackson". ???! On asking others when we got back it was true, their's were all called Michael Jackson! I discovered also that 40 minutes on a camel is long enough to give you a sore arse.
After dismounting we were treated to some more music around a campfire, plus refreshments of 'tea, caffee, biscuits and cookies'.

Later that evening we were taken to a smart hotel for dinner which included traditional local Indian music and dancing. Of course we were 'encouraged' to participate. Bill ( the GP from Michigan ) had said previously that he categorically can't sing and can't dance. It took a few people to quieten him down and drag him off the dance floor at the end of the evening! The food was fine.
These are quite long action packed days of touristing.

PALACE ON WHEELS. RAJASTHAN - INDIA ( Part 2 )

4th - 11th Jan 2012


Day 2. Sawai Madhopur National Park and Chittor.
Some of our morning starts were rather ( too ) early. Day 2 and reveille was at 0530hrs for a 0615hrs depart to the National Park area near Sawai Madhopur. It is one of the 'Tiger Watching' parks. We were bused to the park entrance, then further split up onto 'safari' type wagons. Even at 0700hrs in the cold semi-dark there were gangs of hawkers ( I'm trying to think of a suitable collective noun for an irritating pack of persistent touts and hawkers ) at the entrance selling warm clothing, gloves and hats and things with tiger motifs. We were advised that there are probably only two to three tigers in the whole park! Also, due to the previous overnight rain and murky, damp conditions, any sensible tiger would still be in bed.

Left: Our wagon-load of part of Green Group ( GG ). As you can see, some looked as if they were suffering conditions less than tropical. We set off for what seemed like an eternity over bumpy, pot-holed, muddy tracks. As somewhat expected there was neither sight nor sound of a tiger. We had to console ourselves, at the insistence of a most enthusiastic and knowledgeable guide, with sightings of spotted deer ( these are the type I found wandering around at Trincomalee ) and they are as common and uninteresting as rabbits, some other deer, monkeys, peacocks and birds of various type. It was, for me anyway, all a bit boring and I won't bother to show you further photos. I've seen more interesting wildlife on Clapham Common. Some of GG, I learnt on return to the train for a hearty breakfast, had been as sensible as the tigers and stayed in bed. I was subsequently shown some excellent close up photos of a tigress and her cubs walking alongside one of the wagons taken on a previous trip. So they do exist and are not at all nervous of mankind. Trouble is they don't appear very often. I suggested they stick some 'stuffed' models, with tails that waggle, in the bushes and everyone would go home happy. I'm not sure if this was well received.

Right: These were my co-residents in the 'Jodhpur' saloon carriage. We got to know each other and got on remarkably well. They were a charming, interesting, and well travelled bunch. It was, inevitably, a bit of a 'team building' exercise living in such close proximity for over a week. Left to right: Bob ( retired dermatologist from Portland, Oregon ) and Meredith, Amit ( cardiologist from Los Angeles ) and Rebecca, John ( retired electrical engineer and economist from New Jersey ) and Barrie. So I was in good company if my spots, heart, electric toothbrush or finances needed attention.


We had lunch on board as we proceeded to Chittor, to visit it's massive fort, Chittorgarh. This fort is about 5 miles in length, situated like a vast rock island above the town and is the biggest in Rajasthan. Left: Looking west along some of the fort walls ( note rainwater filled reservoir; one of several ). It is now home to a community of about 5000 inhabitants. It was besieged, invaded and retaken on three occasions between 1303 and 1568 by Mughal attackers. The defending Rajputs committed 'Jauhar' when defeat was inevitable. This involved the men dressing in saffron robes, charging out of the fort and flinging themselves upon their opponents to certain death, while the women, to avoid capture and dishonour, flung themselves and their children onto massive pyres within the fort and were self-immolated. A lot of flinging is involved in 'Jauhar' and not recommended nowadays, whatever the odds.

Right: Another of our excellent and informative guides telling the stories of Chittorgarh. They were many and convoluted. If you are that interested I'm sure they are all described in painful detail on the internet.









Left: A photo of the summerhouse on the lake within the fort where a beautiful wife of the ruler of the day was, according to one of the stories, viewed by means of a mirror by an infatuated invading Mughal sultan. A long story and it ended in treachery when the sultan, escorted by the resident king out of the fort, captured said king and ultimately invaded the fort ( another 'Jauhar' inevitably followed and aforementioned beautiful wife became Mrs Barbecue ).




Right: The Victory Tower at Chittorgarh. In front of which is posed a most amusing family from Bali ( part of GG ). Nattalia ( yes, two 'tt's ), originally from Cork, Ireland, her husband Kadek, a builder of smart houses in Bali, and their children Putu and Lili who were on holiday from school at Geelong Grammar, Victoria, Australia. It was they that re-christened Bombur Singh, our frazzled group manager, 'Mr Mouse'. They thought, with some added whiskers and existing ears, he looked just rather mouse-like. So Mr Mouse he became. Self, Putu and an Australian GG member climbed the tower. It was dark inside with rather precipitous steps but a good view from the top.
I also went on a short ride on a local horse here. Extraordinary coloured creature with funny curved pointy ears that met at the tips. It was not exactly Arkle, but managed to carry me quite swiftly around a street or two once I managed to escape from the poor chasing Indian 'handler'. I think he thought I had 'done a runner' on it. I returned the brute unscathed much to Mr Singh's relief. I presume that was his name because everyone here is called Singh unless otherwise stated, as per the now re-named Mr Mouse.

We were treated to a 'Son et Lumiere' show after dusk which featured much story telling to atmospheric stereophonic music plus sound effects of such things as horses galloping up to the fort, a few screams and lights going on and off around the walls. I must admit to having a bit of a kip through most of it so not sure exactly what went on. It had been a long and tiring day.
Left: Prior to the Son et Lumiere show.
Back to the train afterwards for dinner and an early night.




Day 3. Udaipur. The White City.
A more civilised start time today, and we set off after Mr Mouse had given his normal unintelligible morning greeting on the bus which involves introducing us to our guide for the day and mentioning that "tea, caffee, biscuits and cookies" will occur at some point or other.

The first stop was some 'royal' gardens ( right ) which, frankly, were nothing to write home about. They were from olden times and featured gravity powered fountains and some delicately carved marble elephants that squirted water out of their trunks.









We were then subjected to a visit to an 'art school' which specialised in old-fashioned traditional miniature paintings. These were rather exquisite and featured stylised and very intricately painted pictures of Maharajas and their women and courts. We were given a lecture and display by the man in charge who was called, as far as I could understand, Mr Teapot. The paints used were from crushed semi-precious minerals and even gold. This was just a forerunner to a visit to their large shop behind ( another shopping opportunity ) where everyone was set upon by over-eager salesmen trying to flog the paintings. Incidently, as we discovered later, very similar 'exquisite' paintings were on sale elsewhere for half the price. At this point I escaped. Unfortunately there was nothing within reach to escape to.

The best of the sights in the local area featured this place ( left ), the Global Institute of Sexual Medicines.  Not the sort of place you want your friends to see you enter, or leave for that matter. OK, for those who are not fluent in Hindi, if you 'click on' to enlarge, no pun intended, you will see the translation at the bottom, I mean underneath.







...and also the inevitable bloody cows ( right ) which seem to thrive on plastic bags and garbage. These, along with touts and hawkers, infest most of the towns here. The cows are an eyesore, stand in the middle of the road, and are a filthy nuisance but seem not to bother the locals, as indeed are the pestilential touts and hawkers who swarm like flies around tourists in all the touristy areas that don't strictly forbid them ( fortunately there are a few tout-free areas i.e. inside the buildings ), and even ambush us around the door of our bus. These people need to make money, I admit, but they possibly don't realise how irritated and thick-skinned tourists become due to their persistent pleading, grabbing salesmanship.

We then went off to more glamorous venues. The kings who ruled this state, previously known as Mewar, after the final fall of Chittorgarh were, of course, Singhs by family name but the ruling title was that of Maharana. This is one up on a Maharaja. The present day Marharana of Udaipur ( unofficial but still respected title ) still lives in grand style in the private part of the enormous City Palace, the largest palace in Rajasthan.  Left: The private residence.
Part of this palace is now an expensive hotel. The rest is a walk through museum and most impressive with lots of intricately carved stonework and beautifully restored elaborately decorated rooms.



Right: One of the gates to the palace. This shows some of the pointy metal prongs ( many removed here for 'elf 'n' safety reasons to avoid having to unpick careless tourists ) embedded in the gate, common to most forts and palaces in the region. They acted as an 'anti-elephant' defence and protected the gates from the tactic of breaking them down by often drug-fuelled charging pachyderms. Elephants around here were reputedly trained by a renowned local warlord, Janshir Chipperfield-Singh and his wife, the double-jointed contortionist Betsy Boo Argh Mefootstuk. They were in popular demand.








Left: This is part of the ornate exterior to the old part of the palace. The last 'elephant fight' took place in the arena below here in 1951. It involved two elephants pulling each other towards a central wall. The one which ended up pulled over, or against the wall was the loser. Apparently each contest went on for hours with lots of 'trumpeting'. It must have been rather a dull event. Then the entrepreneurial Chipperfield-Singh got the idea to make then stand on big drums, dance on their hind legs, take buns from the audience and the rest is history.


Right: A view of the 'white city' from an upper window in the palace. It's a big place Udaipur and, by Indian standards, relatively clean even outside the polished and manicured tourist sites, despite the crapping cows.
I should mention that the first Maharana here ( in 1568 ) was called Udai Singh, hence Udaipur.
I might also mention that any city with 'pur' at the end is originally Hindu, and any place with 'bad' at the end is originally Muslim. You probably knew that already.


Left: An example, of many, of the over-the-top glass and shiny decoration that features in the old rooms.
There is also a large four sided gallery which features an extraordinary and enormous collection of crystal-ware from the long defunct British firm F&C Ostler. Maharana Sajjan Singh ordered tons of stuff in 1877, but he died before it could be delivered. It remained in packing crates for 110 years. It is now all on display and features extravagant ( and rather tasteless ) items such as crystal chairs, sofas, tables and even beds. The crystal beds looked remarkably uncomfortable. These Maharanas had some weird tastes in decor. And as for the gargantuan crystal chandeliers hanging in the Grand Durbar Hall, the lavish royal reception room, it is difficult to describe adequately their vast size and complexity. I don't think we were allowed to photograph in here. Much of these 'royal' interior designs and furnishings are seriously lavish to a point well beyond tasteless. Gold taps and ivory loo-roll holders, pah!, would go unnoticed. Even 'Del Boy' Trotter and Arfur Daly would consider the style a little 'de trop'.


.....and ( right ) an example of the extremely elaborate carving of the sandstone frontage in the many courtyards. Without too much TV, electronic distractions or even pubs to go to, these old-time plasterers and decorators were willing to put in a lot of man-hours to produce, with no effort spared over a long period, magnificent results. Impossible to even think it could be done today.  






The old Marharanas built three big rain filled reservoirs ( glamorously re-christened lakes )  around the city. They were, maybe still are, their vital water source in a land where water is often in short supply. The biggest, and it has been known to dry up in bad years, is the Pichola Lake, which is home to the 'floating' Taj Lake Palace. It is an exclusive and ridiculously expensive hotel. It apparently featured in the 'Bond' film Octopussy which, sad though it may seem, I have not watched.


Around the outside of the 'lake' are more traditional Indian activities such as the washing of clothes ( right ). Wherever you go in India there is always the stark contrast between the supremely rich tiny minority and the vast majority of slum dwelling poor. There is, however, no overt indication of bitterness or jealousy. Life, they consider, is one of fate and 'caste' and one's accepted place in the order of things. I think the Hindu religion maintains the hope of the poor, that if they do all the correct 'religious' things, slap enough cowshit on their foreheads, pray fervently to the relevant Gods, and don't cause any trouble, they will be reincarnated as a higher life-form, or caste. I may be wrong, but it all seems to me a bit of a confidence trick.

Left: On the far western side of the 'lake' is another vast, elaborate and even more exclusive and monumentally expensive hotel, the Udaivilas Hotel where, to give you an idea, a suite costs up to $5000 per night!
The hilltop building in the background is a monastery.
There are many other artificial islands of ancient glamour on the lakes housing 'chatris', old summerhouses, for the Maharanas and their entourages to relax or entertain in. There was plenty of mention of music and dancing girls involved. After a sumptuous lunch in a smart hotel in the palace grounds ( no dancing girls ), we were taken on a serene boat trip around these, and had to wear life-jackets would you believe. Mr Mouse would hate to have any of us drown. On reaching shore we were entertained to more 'Tea, caffee, biscuits and cookies'.

We made it safely back to the Palace on Wheels which was now referred to as the 'PoW' and nobody appeared to have gone missing. Off we roll to see more Rajasthan highlights. Lots of things to see and photograph on this trip and I wish to keep a record, so you'll have to bear with me, if you want to that is.

PALACE ON WHEELS. RAJASTHAN - INDIA ( Part 1 )

4th - 11th Jan 2012

Palace on Wheels. Our carriage staff.

As fully anticipated the idiot auto-rickshaw driver managed to visit two incorrect and far apart places before he finally took some advice on how to find Safdarjung railway station. It was here we were to board the ‘Palace on Wheels’ train for a seven day tour of the major attractions in Rajasthan, the Land of Kings. This State is arguably the most photogenic, and probably the most touristy, of all the Indian States. It was originally a warlike place inhabited by Rajputs who were initially under control of the muslim Moghul empire ( Genghis Khan's descendants ) and later the Indian Hindu Maharajas. The Maharajas surnames are usually Singh. Singh is still a predominant Rajasthani name, rather like the name Jones in Wales, although that is where the similarity ends. Having said that, there are undoubtedly more Singhs living in Wales than there are Joneses in Rajasthan.They used to fight amongst themselves if no-one else was attacking them ( OK, that is another Welsh similarity ). The British arranged a mutually beneficial relationship with the Maharajas which left them substantial freedom to rule their own kingdoms provided they acknowledged overall British rule, and the British guaranteed to provide military security for the area, i.e. they stopped them fighting each other! It all worked very well, and many Maharajas became great Anglophiles. Maybe some still are.

Left: Waiting at Safdarjung station to embark. There were 95 passengers on this train which was divided into 12 ‘saloon’ carriages, two restaurant cars, a lounge bar car and a ‘spa’ car ( whatever that is ). The passengers were an eclectic mix of nationalities as well as several Indian tourists. I was allocated a cabin in 'Jodhpur' carriage. Similarly the other carriages all had place names from Rajasthan. There were four cabins in each carriage plus a small lounge area and a pantry. Each carriage had a 'carriage captain' and his assistant; effectively a butler and under-butler. Ours were called Rajesh and Rajendra and they were extremely smart and efficient. Nothing was too much trouble. Rajesh was the veritable 'Jeeves' of Rajasthan.

We were greeted with a flowery 'garland' slung over the neck and a 'tikka', the red dot, splodged onto your forehead. They attempted this at all our subsequent station, and off-train restaurant, arrivals and I, amongst others, managed to avoid it after a bit. You can have too much of a good thing! The band ( right) was there to entertain us while we waited. I'm sure that chap playing the bongo at the back is the same guy, Jagdesh, whom I photographed at the hotel in the previous blog ( Ex-AAC ). The other bongo player was off having a leak. 

To begin with we were given a conducted tour of the train and it's facilities. Left: The cabin ( bedroom ) which had plush carpets and a bathroom with a decent shower. The beds were really very comfortable. Morning 'wake-up' tea, or whatever you wanted, was delivered in suitably Jeeves-like manner in proper china, with biscuits. I'm sure Rajendra would happily have brought you a double brandy, or a bottle, or a barrel, if that's what you asked for. It was that sort of service!

Right: This is our carriage sitting-room where we were served tea, if in, and breakfast, and they did great bacon and eggs for breakfast. I never really got to grips with the Indian alternatives. 

This railway is 'wide-guage'. On the whole it was a remarkably smooth ride. Occasionally there was a bit of rocking and rolling on the faster stretches and the driver loved blowing his whistle. Probably to get cows off the line.

Left: One of the two dining cars ( called the Maharaja and Maharani respectively ). The food was delicious and there were choices of 'Continental', 'Chinese' or 'Indian', or all three, or any combination, or quantity, that took your fancy. After the first dinner I had more visions of the exploding Mr Creosote in the Monty Python film, 'The Meaning of Life'. The meals were all included in the initial fare. The cost of drinks was extra. Crisps and peanuts were thrown in free.

And, of course, the all important lounge bar. It had a TV at this end which received BBC 24 or CNN news, unless some 'erk' got to it first and was watching a 'movie'. After our initial tour of the train we were assembled here (in two sittings) and given a free drink and a quick briefing on what excitements the next week would hold.

I must say, the on-train service was impeccable in a very pleasant old fashioned 'Raj' style and with seemingly innumerable and attentive staff. We were waited on hand, foot and anything else 'sir'. Most impressive. I always felt rather underdressed for the whole occasion. Black Tie for dinner would not have been out of place!

There was also a 'spa' car in which, apparently, expensive massages and other treatments of various weird descriptions were administered and of which I felt no need. I think it was mostly aimed at the ladies.

We passengers were divided into four groups, or teams, to fit into four buses for the daily tours. Amazingly, these same buses followed the train and met us at the various morning start-points. They must have driven like hell through the nights. I was in 'Green Group'. There were also yellow, blue and red groups. We were issued with our relevant coloured badges and didn't mix with the other groups much.

Left: Our Green Group 'manager' was a chap called Bombur Singh ( or something close ). He always welcomed us onto the bus in the morning. He spoke rapidly in English in a flat monotone but, sadly, much of it was unintelligible. The only words we regularly understood were when he mentioned "break for caffee, tea, biscuits and cookies". This became a standing joke. When he tried to explain what we were going to do, it usually caused more confusion than enlightenment. He constantly wore a sort of panic stricken look as if expecting to lose control or worse, lose entirely one of us passengers. He was unintentionally very amusing 'a la John Cleese' mode and even slightly similar in appearance.

It had all the makings of a fairly luxurious and well organised jaunt through Rajasthan. It was, perhaps, a little too organised for some people's liking but the organisers, especially Mr Singh, were terrified that some renegade tourist might show a bit too much independence and get lost and miss the bus or worse, the train. We were kept on a tight rein.

Day 1. Jaipur. The Pink City. It transpired that most of the cities in Rajasthan have been allotted 'colours', and often for sound reason. 

As became the norm, we were welcomed off the train by musicians, and ladies who draped garlands around our necks and plonked a dot of red gunge on our foreheads ( hope it wasn't cow dung ), a tikka. There was often an armed police presence too! Not sure where the danger was coming from and it was possibly just for effect.

The day began with a visit to the Prince Albert Museum ( left ). An elaborate building built in 1876 outside the old town. It was quite interesting. There were thousands of pigeons around the place.

Then through the ancient moghul gate into the old town where the buildings are indeed of a uniform pinkish colour. All buildings are required, by law, to be kept this colour. This 'facade' ( right ), called the Hawa Mahal, in the main street, was constructed by a previous Maharaja to allow his women to sit behind the beautifully carved grille windows and watch what was going on in the town below without being seen themselves. As you are no doubt aware, in olden times ( and maybe even now in some traditional Muslim and Hindu places like the east-end of London ) women were not allowed to be seen in public, or even in private by anyone other than their direct families. Purdah!

Another previous Maharaja, 1728 vintage, was inventive and fascinated in the sciences, particularly astronomy. He was well ahead of his time. He built an amazing observatory called the Jantar Mantar which houses a collection of outsize astronomic instruments which measure all sorts of things astronomical. This one ( left ) calculates the position of stars. The whole collection resembled a vast array of 'modern art'! I was expecting to meet the magnificent xylophone playing astronomer Sir Patrick Moore with his trousers up to his chin ( is he still around? ), but didn't.

Right: Green Group having the workings of these 'instruments' explained by our guide of the day. Our guides were local to the areas we visited and were particularly good; they spoke excellent English and were clearly very highly educated and expert on their subjects. I suspect that the Palace on Wheels ( POW ) gets the pick of the bunch. At one point it was explained to us that to get to be a tourist guide in India is highly competitive. One chap said that there were 135,000 applicants for his 'course', of which 350 were selected for training and he was 7th in the final order of merit.

Left: A giant sundial. The largest in the world. It is accurate to 3 seconds. You can see the shade-mark falling on a very detailed and precise scale. Lots of pigeons were lined up on the central wall. It obviously doubles as a prestigious and popular pigeon social gathering place.

Nearby is the City Palace where the Jaipur Maharajas moved to when living in the fort above the city became impracticable. The present day Maharaja of Jaipur and his family still live here, in part of it. The pic ( right ) is of their private quarters. The status and independence of Maharajas, together with a government provided income, was initially guaranteed when the British left in 1947. However, in 1971?, Indira Ghandi's government passed a bill in Parliament that did away with the titles, income and any power they might have held. Most accepted this philosophically and moved into other income generating businesses. Although technically without any title or position, many of the present day Maharajas are still accorded the same respect and titles in their local 'kingdoms' and continue to live in the original palaces. I suspect they do good things for their 'people' who quite probably enjoy having a Maharaja about the place to look after them in preference to what they perceive as thoroughly corrupt and self-serving politicians in the State and New Delhi.   

One previous Maharaja periodically went on 'sporting' ( grouse shooting, salmon fishing and polo ) visits to Britain accompanied by a large retinue of family, staff and servants. Being a devout Hindu he always took with him his personal supply of 'holy water' from the Ganges or other similar rancid drain. This water was contained in two enormous pure silver vessels; the biggest silver vessels in the world, by far I suspect. One of these is pictured ( left ) with a very shifty looking guard. They are about 8ft high. 

Before return to India, the holy water having been used up, they were reputedly refilled with the finest Scotch single-malt whisky. I wonder how they got them through customs? I suspect Maharajas could 'pull a few strings' in those days. Imagine trying to get those things through the security obsessed, no liquids more that 125ml, jobsworths at Heathrow nowadays. And think of the excess baggage weight charges!

Right: This solemn looking, if colourful, gent was sitting somewhere outside the palace. Of course loads of people, like me, took his photo. Equally of course, he expected money for his 'efforts'. It became painfully obvious that this dressing up in colourful quasi-religious costume and warpaint was a bit of a money spinning scam ( you know, like the 'living statues' on such streets as Las Ramblas in Barcelona, or those dreadful Rob Roy look-alike lousy 'pipers' outside Edinburgh Castle at the time of the Festival ) and was apparent at all the sites we visited. It involves little effort for a bloody good return. He is probably another owner of a second home on the Cote d'Azure and drives a Ferrari.  Probably has a private jet too. I might try this someday.

We were then whisked off to the Amber Fort which overlooks the city. It was the home of the Moghuls and subsequently Maharajas and well fortified by at least two concentric walls with lots of watch-towers. ( as per left ). I stupidly forgot to take a photo of the imposing fort on it's hill before going up there. Probably because Mr Bombur Singh was frantically trying to get us all aboard a column of gayly painted and decorated 'Happy Christmas' elephants for the 15 minute elephant ride to the top.

Hold very tight please, ting ting. More difficult than you think taking a photo of some of our Green Group from a swaying elephant's back. Sitting sideways on those elephant seats was not that comfortable. It felt as if you would slip over backwards or forwards. I expect Mr Singh was running along behind to pick up any fallers.

Left: The great elephant train arrived without mishap at the top where we were treated to rather a good buffet lunch. More ethnic musicians, garlands and razzmatazz.

Right: The old moghul buildings within the fort were impressive and beautifully maintained. Immaculate carvings and mirror inlays and gardens etc. etc. There were tons of photos taken, but this is a typical example; the 'audience' room in the centre. Elsewhere a most elaborate quadrangle housed 12 apartments for the king's wives. They ( the ladies) had no interconnecting doors, but the king ( moghul emperor, or whatever ) had access by secluded passageway to all. None of them knew which wife was being visited. They got things sorted in those days.

We returned to the city in 'jeeps'. Then taken on what was advertised as a shopping opportunity. I thought this would mean we could wander around the local shops and buy things, or not, at our leisure. No way. It soon became apparent that these 'shopping opportunities' were pre-arranged 'group' visits to a particular 'favoured' ( i.e. POW got a large back-hander ) local manufacturer of some goods or other and miles away from the main city shops, so little chance to escape. In this instance it was first to a large jewellery shop, and then a fabric and carpet place. This, for me, was a complete waste of time. The stuff on sale was vastly expensive and I had absolutely no interest in buying anything anyway. The venues put on spectacular and well rehearsed sales routines, especially the carpet place which dramatically flung open rolls of beautiful silk and pashmena wool carpets, accompanied by marvellously slick patter, costing up to $15,000 ( post and package included of course ) each. The bigger ones took, we were told, up to 3 years to complete. I wondered, and queried, how much the local women who slaved away to make these magnificent rugs got paid. As expected, no answer was forthcoming.The only plus was that they served drinks, including by now much needed beer, to keep us happy. It was a captive audience subjected to an intense sales pitch. Quite surprisingly in my opinion, several people were happily spending a fortune buying up the goods which were probably grossly overpriced and which, until then, they did not know they either needed or wanted. They undoubtedly had much more money than sense. Not my problem really but, for me, these almost enforced 'sales' pitches became one of the irritating drawbacks of the otherwise excellent daily tours. I broached the subject with Mr Singh, who just managed to look even more panic stricken. He had his instructions no doubt. I suppose he thought I would go and do my own thing in future. He was right!

We eventually escaped the 'shopping' and back to the train for wash, drinks and dinner. En-route, or maybe it was before, we passed this rather glamorous 'regal summerhouse' on the lake ( left ). It was a summer retreat for the Maharaja and his family when they wanted a bit of peace and quiet and a cool breeze. I don't suppose they were troubled by rising damp? I wonder what happened when there was a big monsoon rain. The butler handed out life-jackets I presume. It is now unoccupied and kept purely as an ornament. Not to be confused with the Lake Palace at Udaipur.


I am now sitting around waiting for a visa application to be processed. As such I have a bit of time on my hands and also free wifi, so will probably bang-on at length about the Rajasthan trip. As previously said, I'm doing this primarily for my own benefit and as a personal log, so no apologies if it bores you rigid. It keeps me amused and off the streets at night. Good Heavens, it's nearly 1.00am and I've only got through Day 1 of the Palace on Wheels Grand Tour. Lots more to put up with yet I'm afraid!