Tuesday 25th March 2014
Last week passed with relatively little worth writing about.
I saw a few obese dogs, noticed that there are a lot of tractors on the roads
here, and that the number and range of books available about entrepreneurialism
is huge (more on this another time).
However, on Friday evening I headed off to the railway station to catch
my overnight train 300km north to Udaipur, where I spent the weekend with Lena,
a friend from Utrecht who is doing her thesis research in Delhi. Apart from almost
freezing to death because of the rather intense air-conditioning, the train
journey was most comfortable, and extremely punctual (what’s going on with all
of this good public transport, India? Not that I mind, but it’s hardly what I
expected to find here). And the best part: the ticket was only Rs.665 (8€). Our
hotel was run by a Dutch-Indian couple, and it was the first time in ages
either of us had heard the language we’d become so accustomed to, which of course
led to us reminiscing about Utrecht. After getting over how excited I was to
see a familiar face after several weeks, we set-off to do some sightseeing.
Our first stop was the soft-yellow stone edifice of the City Palace,
which rises above the northeast shore of Lake Pichola. It is made up off eleven
different palaces, with a myriad of courtyards and chambers all connected by a
labyrinthine series of narrow passageways. Apparently this was designed to
confuse and disorientate enemies that tried to invade, and reduce their ability
to attack. All I can say is, thank goodness there was a clearly signposted
visitor route, otherwise, I may still be there trying to find the exit. After
viewing the countless paintings of various royals’ exploits, shielding my eyes
from the garish glare of the rooms decorated with multicoloured mirror tiles
and battling our way through the throng of tour groups, we strolled down to
jetty to take a boat trip on the lake.
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| The City Palace. |
The boat trip was…interesting. We were made to wear life jackets that
were not only older than both of us, but also had no way of fastening, and so
thin that they probably wouldn’t have kept much more than a feather afloat.
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| Boat trip on Lake Pichola. |
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| Lake Pichola and the Lake Palace. |
We
cruised around for a while, looking across the water at the mountains, City Palace
and Lake Palace, and then suddenly we were dropped off on a small island. We
stood for a while, a little perplexed as to what was going on, but soon
conceded that we’d have to wait for an hour for the next boat back, sitting in
the garden of a random hotel. The hour had almost passed (I spent most of it
taking selfies) when we noticed that most of the people we’d arrived with had
disappeared. It turns out that boats had been leaving from the other side of
the island every few minutes.
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| Boat trip-selfie. |
Before going back to the hotel, we stopped off at
the seventeenth century Jagdish Temple, which has some beautiful carvings of
scenes from the life of Krishna, elephants, and dancing nymphs.
On
Saturday night we went to the first of the good restaurants Lena had found through
some research. Criteria: good food, good view, and a bar. I might have
mentioned this before, but alcohol is prohibited in Gujarat, and after six
weeks, I was really feeling the need for some gin. Thankfully, Upre (the
restaurant) did not disappoint: we had the best table on the rooftop terrace,
watched the sun set over the lake, and ate and drank to our hearts’ content.
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| Dinner at Upre. |
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| The view from our table at Upre. |
Based on the recommendation of my guidebook, I wanted to visit
Bagore-ki-Haveli, a palace built in 1751, and apparently a ‘worthwhile museum’,
which is where we went first on Sunday morning. I was wary from the moment we
paid the suspiciously low entrance fee of only Rs.50, and rightly so it would
seem. The first gallery was full of puppets, which were – for lack of a better
description – quite creepy. Next, we found ourselves admiring the turban
collection, including my personal highlight: (probably) the world’s largest
turban. Finally, there was the large collection of polystyrene sculptures of
various things, ranging from everyday objects and animals to famous world
monuments (I was particularly impressed by the Eiffel Tower). While we
struggled to see the significance of these pieces, the Indian family visiting
(their children were incredibly obnoxious) at the same time seemed utterly
spellbound by them.
Exhausted by the thrills of the museum, we spent the afternoon lounging
(and by this I mean eating) at Millets of Mewar, a charming café that
specialises in healthy, vegan, and gluten-free food. Lena was very excited
about the gluten-free pizza and pancakes - and rightly so – the food was great. I had mutter paneer, my favourite North Indian dish. I'm sure I consume far more paneer than is advisable. Later, we took a car up to Sajjangarh (Monsoon Palace), which sits over 300m on
a hill above the city. The palace was never actually inhabited, and is rather
barren inside, apart from the exhibition about local biodiversity (it sits
inside a wildlife sanctuary), but the panoramic views over Udaipur, the lakes,
and the surrounding countryside are stunning.
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| Just part of the stunning panorama at Sajjangarh |
Again, based on Lena’s research, we went to yet another delightful
restaurant for dinner. Ambrai’s setting facing the lake and City Palace (oh,
how romantic…) was superlative. The food and cocktails were also exquisite. I
particularly enjoyed their delicious Gulab Jamun (a dumpling-like dessert
flavoured with cardamom and rosewater syrup) and ‘Pink City’ (a cocktail with
gin, pineapple juice and rose syrup).
Before we departed on Monday, it was decided that another trip to
Millets of Mewar was required. There was only one problem with the place: it
was plagued by a certain type of person, who I can’t quite find the exact word
to describe, but you’ll see what I mean in the following example. We first saw
her on the bridge as we crossed the lake, sitting, talking in a condescending
tone to an elderly man selling instruments. About half an hour later, she
arrives at the café, carrying an instrument, bragging about how she only paid
Rs.800 for it: she could have had it for less, but after all it was hand-made
and would have cost her at least $1000-2000
back home in New York. She sat there, ‘playing’ the instrument for the next
hour, talking to some other tourists, one of whom asked her what had brought
her to India. Her response:
“I’m here for the same reason anyone comes to India, to find myself.”
According to her, if you travel to India alone, you are most
certainly doing so in order to find yourself. Don’t worry; I’ll let you know
when I do. Although I’m not feeling particularly lost, so perhaps it’s already
happened?
Despite the huge saving she’d made buying the instrument, she still
complained about the price of her cup of coffee (Rs.45/0,54€). Thankfully,
these extortionate prices soon drove her harem-pant-clad self away.
All
in all, a wonderful weekend. The train journey back to Ahmedabad last night was,
again, comfortable and punctual. I go back to work tomorrow. Only six
interviews left to do!
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| Waiting to board the train. Goodbye, Udaipup. |
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