Week 104 - Delhi, Kathmandu, Phakding, Namche Bazaar, Tengboche, Dingboche (India, Nepal)

Leaving our hotel in Delhi we had a short walk to the airport Metro station. The train was fast and on time and before we new it we were at the airport and checked in. The flight was painless and the hardest part of the whole journey was trying to work out which queue we were supposed to be in to obtain our visa on arrival in Nepal. We were met at the airport by a representative from the trekking company (which we’d prebooked on Groupon, oh yes, some things never change) and had beautiful marigold fresh flower necklaces hung around our necks. Feeling like we were living the high life, we drove to the hotel where we’d be spending our first two nights in Kathmandu.

We were given a dingy basement room and quickly realised that the rooms given to the tour groups using the hotel were tucked away at the back. Being next to the kitchen, the smell of curry permeated our room and with all the crashing about, we requested to move and ended up in a far better room at the front. 

Once in the touristy Thamel area of Kathmandu, where every building is either a trek gear shop, souvenir shop, hotel or restaurant, we had some final purchases to make to prepare for the trek, dirt cheap hiking poles, water bottles, socks, hats and the like.

We’d also been in contact with Mario again, our favourite Portuguese and as it turned out he was in town. We caught up over delicious but pricey pizza before calling it a night.

The next morning we had a tour briefing in the hotel lobby. Half of our group had arrived a day early and already had their meeting so we only met a few of the 16 people we’d be joining to hike to Everest Base Camp. We received very brief instructions and were issued with our duffle bags with sleeping bags and puffer jackets, followed by a surprise luggage weigh in. For the flight to Lukla, the start of the trek, we were only allowed to carry 14kg, 4kg of which was taken up by the jacket and sleeping bag, not leaving much room for snacks and 12 days worth of clothes. A bit concerned and a few tough decisions about what to bring and what to leave later and we had to rush back to reception to meet the rest of our group for a day of sightseeing.

Our first stop was at a Tibetan refugee carpet warehouse where we watched rows and rows of Tibetan women working at an incredible speed to weave beautiful rugs. Next, we drove out to Durbar Square in Patan, supposedly one of the finest collections of temples and palaces and displays of Newari architecture in Nepal. The majority of the buildings date from the 14th to the 18th centuries and there’s a mix of tiered pagodas, stupas and shrines. Our guide was nice enough but his English wasn’t great and there was a lot of hesitation and repeating himself so actually following what he was saying was difficult and we soon lost concentration.

Tibetan lady spinning wool, Kathmandu.

Durbar Square, Patan, near Kathmandu.

Wandering the streets of Patan, near Kathmandu.

Next, we stopped by the ‘Golden Temple’ nothing at all like the Golden Temple we’d just visited in India but instead a small Buddhist temple with gold covering every surface. Interestingly, at the Golden Temple, the priest is a young boy under 12 who serves for 30 days before passing the duty to another young boy. Our next stop was at a singing bowl shop. Again, it was pretty drawn out as lots of people wanted to experience the healing qualities of the bowls. We’re a bit cynical and although we love the look of the bowls, we find it hard to believe that one that was hammered out on a full moon would really be any more powerful than any other and the steep price in the shop didn’t really seem justified especially with our tight budget. We ended up waiting outside for everyone to finish their shopping before wandering back to the bus. 

The Golden Temple, Patan, near Kathmandu.

We made one last stop on the tour, at Bodhnath. We ate in the compound while getting to know some of the people we’d be spending the next couple of weeks with before completing a loop of the stupa, taking hundreds of photos of the prayer flags waving in the wind. Bodhnath is a centre for Tibetan Buddhism and the eyes of the Buddha gaze out at you, painted brightly beneath the golden central tower. The stupa used to be on the trade route from Tibet to Kathmandu and attracted traders praying for safe journey through the high passes of the Himalaya, quite apt for our group.

Prayer flags at Bodhnath, Kathmandu.

Although the tour wasn’t done, we requested to be dropped back near the hotel along with two others. The trip was running late and we still had things to do before our early morning flight the following day and we’d arranged to meet Mario again for dinner. Knowing we would return to Kathmandu a number of times before leaving Nepal we didn’t feel rushed to continue the sightseeing.

We finished packing and finally managed to get our bags under the weight limit before heading out to find Mario. He was running late too and after we’d given up waiting and he’d chased us down the street, we ended up stumbling across a tiny, dirt cheap little restaurant called the Momo Cave. It was like sitting in someones spare room with hardly any furniture and a young boy to serve us.

We managed to get a relatively early night ready for the 4:45am start the next day to head to the airport. The domestic departures lounge was hidden around the back of a building site and when we got there it was still closed and our guides piled all our bags at the door. When you book a flight to Lukla, you don’t get a time and it’s done on a first come first served basis (from what we can gather) so it’s all a bit hectic.

The flight was incredible. One of the stewards at the airport had recommended we sit on the right of the plane and the views of the Himalayas were spectacular. A little 12 seater propellor plane with just one seat on each side of the aisle and a clear view into the cockpit. The flight was smooth and in no time we had arrived at Lukla, the highest and shortest commercial airstrip in the world, and the most dangerous. The airstrip itself is built with an incline to reduce the speed of the aeroplane on landing and to give an extra push to those taking off. 

Once off the flight we congregated in one of the guesthouses in town, enjoying the last of our packed breakfast boxes before perching on a stone staircase where we could watch the planes arriving into Lukla, screeching to a halt before picking up new passengers and heading out again, appearing to almost be catapulted down the ramp and back into the mountains.

Lukla airport, the highest, shortest and most dangerous airstrip in the world.

After an hour or so, it was time to start walking. The first day was far from strenuous and we didn’t cover much ground at all. Having traveled independently for so long, suddenly being part of a group and being told when and where to eat and sleep and having to wait for people all the time was a little frustrating. Although i’d worried about our fitness levels prior to the hike it was immediately evident that we were able to keep up with the front of our group without any hassle. The frustration over the excessively long waits, when we’d start to get cold and disheartened was to become a bit of a sore point for the next couple of days, until the weather improved and the clouds lifted to reveal some of the most spectacular mountain scenery you could ever imagine and which we could happily while away hours photographing and soaking in. 

The trek we’d booked on to was a Groupon special and for only marginally more money than it would have cost to organise independently, all the stress and hassle was taken out of the planning, we literally just had to turn up. For our group of 18 people we had two lead guides, Gelu and Furba, two assistant guides and nine porters to carry everything but our day bag essentials. The majority of the time, we walked with one of the assistant sherpas at the front who we bonded with after a few days and who, other than our nightly briefing, was our only real contact with a guide, it was a bit of a shame that his English wasn’t very good and we couldn’t really ask questions or learn much about our surroundings.

Our guides were Sherpas, probably the most well known of Nepal’s ethnic groups, their history tracing back to the days of nomadic Tibetan herders who moved to the Solu Khumba region of Nepal 500 years ago bringing with them Tibetan Buddhism, evident all over the countryside around Mount Everest through the prayer flags, beautiful gompas and carved mani’s with mantras praying for safe passage. With the increase of tourism in the Everest region after the Maoist rebellion, the Sherpa name has become synonymous with mountaineering and trekking.

The trek itself involved 12 days of walking, taking us from 2,795m in Lukla at the airport to Everest Base Camp at 5,300m and on to Kala Pattar at 5,545m, spending our nights at teahouses along the way. As the increase in altitude is quite marked, it’s necessary to take acclimatisation days to prevent altitude sickness so it takes about 8 days to ascend but only 4 to descend. Altitude sickness has claimed 200 lives on the trek in the last 40 years at altitudes of as low as 3,420m including two Australians recently who ignored advice and didn’t take time to aclimatise. In order to ensure we were all in health, each evening after dinner Gelu would take oxygen and heart readings for each of us to track any significant changes that could indicate we were having problems, fitness levels have nothing to do with how your body will react at altitude and there’s no way to tell if you’ll suffer or not until you get there.

The first day was only a short walk and saw us spending the night in Phakding at 2,620m. It wasn’t until we came to walk back to Lukla that we realised how much down hill there had been on this stage as we followed the trail along the Dudh Kosi Valley. We crossed some long bridges, fed noodles to the crows (there are crows everywhere), saw our first snow capped mountains and quickly learned to pass Buddhist stupas, flags and mani clockwise and to spin prayer wheels clockwise. Once in Phakding we gathered for a short excursion up to a monastery overlooking the village. As we started to climb (one of the steepest paths of the whole trail) the rain began and by the time we were at the top we were all wet and cold. Rhys took a nap before dinner then managed to sleep for a solid 11 hours waking up refreshed to start the second day.

Day two took us about 14km over long swaying bridges crossing the Dudh Kosi river and on to Namche Bazaar at 3,420m, where we were due to spend our first acclimatisation day. We spent lunch by the river side in Jorsale at 2,830m and entered into the Sagarmatha National Park (Sagarmatha being the local name for Everest). From this point on, as no animal could be killed in the National Park and all meat was to be carried up from lower levels, unrefrigerated and sitting around for who knows how long, most of the group opted to go vegetarian, I think Rhys found this part of the trip the most taxing and worse than the walk itself.

Buddhist stupas, manis and prayer flags on route to Namche.

Bridges spanning the Dudh Kosi on the way to Namche, (we crossed on the higher one).

Porters carrying twice their own body weight across the river.

The teahouse we were in in Namche had a dark and dingy common area and after a few games of cards, most of us turned in for an early night, with Karlie and Noemi on Ró entertainment duty, taking her out for a midnight walk. 

Namche was a decent size town and although we were in the shoulder season and a lot of the restaurants and bars were closed, there were enough souvenir stalls to get our attention. We’d see the contrast between the September and October trekking traffic when we returned during our decent and all were thankful we’d walked in shoulder season. Peak season might bring the best weather but it brings hundreds and hundreds of people and queues of up to an hour to even cross bridges, never mind the queues on the unstable paths when you reach Base Camp. We probably passed 100 or so other people on the trail at the same time as us, in October, numbers can reach 10,000 during the month and that doesn’t include those doing other hikes off the main trail and those climbing some of the smaller peaks, the most we had to wait for was a few yaks (or naks or even caks...) to walk passed carrying supplies to the teahouses on route.

We spent our acclimatisation day in Namche doing a short half day hike to a higher altitude, stopping at a National Park museum, before dropping back in to town for lunch. We walked up past the Shyangboche airstrip to a hotel that supposedly had great views but the clouds were in and we weren’t rewarded. Brendan, one of only five boys in our group, had been ill before we’d started the trek and was starting to struggle. That night his oxygen and heart rate reading was scary and it was the last we saw of him. The following morning he was too ill to continue and along with one of our assistant guides, made the decision to turn back to Lukla (where the weather meant the planes were backlogged and it took him three days to get out). Fingers crossed he gets another chance and makes it to Base Camp.

As we were back in Namche at lunch time, me and Rhys ducked out of the hotel to eat at a restaurant in town. We found it a little annoying that we were forced to eat at the teahouse where we were staying and that the tour company had failed to mention this to us in advance. Rooms are basic and dirt cheap but the price is dependent on you eating there and can quadruple if you eat out. We were happy to have breakfast and dinner there but felt a bit of variety for lunch wouldn’t go a miss and we had the best meal we probably had on the whole trip. We ended up going back to the same restaurant for hot lemon later with Ró, Karlie and Noemi to duck out of a rain storm and while away the afternoon after a short walk to another gompa and through a quarry full of carved mani (rocks covered with mantras and prayers).

The food on the trip was, in general, decent but extremely carb heavy and all the menus were the same. You could have fried rice, fried noodles or fried potatoes with a choice of carrots and cabbage, nak cheese or eggs, with momos (stuffed dumplings) for a rare treat.

By this point friendship groups had started to form and we spent most of our time with Karlie, Noemi, Ashleigh, Bryce and Ró, one of the funniest people i’ve ever had the pleasure to meet and who never failed to make the entire group laugh, I honestly don’t know who let her go to Nepal by herself when she can’t even make her own bed but am mighty glad she did. 

Our fourth day took us to Tengboche, another short day covering only 10km which saw us follow the river valley, getting our first views of Everest’s peak in the distance, to a series of water turned prayer wheels before a steep ascent into the village. Far smaller than Namche, the group of teahouses at Tengboche were centred around a monastary but when we arrived the clouds had rolled in (a lot of the time we’d be late leaving in the mornings while we waited for everyone to get ready and it would mean we’d get to view points after the clouds were already in). 

There was a ceremony at the gompa that evening so we wandered over and took seats against the walls to watch the monks bang on their drums and chant while being handed stacks of food stuff before popcorn was distributed to us in the wings. We stayed for about 30 minutes before leaving them too it, since we left Namche the weather was notably colder and we were wrapped up warm against the night chill, enjoying a yak dung fueled fire in the common area of the teahouse. I had a stonking altitude headache and the continuous drumming wasn’t really helping to calm it. I think most people suffered from the headaches at one point or another and they could get pretty bad, the best cure being to drink lots of water (you’re supposed to drink at least twice what you normally would when you’re at altitude), and to take painkillers.

The next morning we were woken early as the skies had cleared and we had breathtaking mountain views with Amadablam rising sharply in the foreground. There’s no better way top spend the morning than gazing out at the snow capped Himalaya before breakfast.

Ashleigh enjoying a beautiful start to the day, sun rise over Tengboche.

Rhys and Ró making the most of a clear morning in Tengboche.

Our trekking group, Ró, me, Kathryn, Alicia, Lynn, Stan, Noemi, Rex, Kathy, Ashleigh, V, Karlie, Natasha, Shirley, Erica, Rhys and Bryce.

After Tengboche, we continued our hike to Dingboche. The first hour or so flew by as we had clear skies and lots to look at as the sun rose over the valley, before we descended to cross the river again to Pangboche at 3,900m where we stopped for tea. Having seen the increasing price of bottled water (everything being carried in from Lukla in ridiculously big stacks balanced on ropes strapped across porters foreheads) we were extremely glad to have purification tablets. The trail continued to Shomare at 4,040m where we stopped for lunch and then on to Dingboche at 4,440m. That afternoon we climbed above the tree line and seemingly within metres the landscape turned to scrub, seperated near villages by stone walls.

Another spectacular valley view on route to Dingboche.

Hairy yaks passing us on their way down the valley.

Above the tree line, a change in scenary on the way to Dingboche.

It was too cold to do much in the evening with our teahouse on a ridge line and after dinner and cards in the yak dung warmed communal area, we turned in for an early night. The altitude was starting to show it’s affects and the cold was giving people bad coughs and sore throats. Sleeping was becoming more difficult and although the altitude makes you sleepy, you get vivid dreams and the extra liquids you have to drink mean you’re up several times each night limiting the amount of sleep you can actually get.

Week 103 - Mcleod Ganj, Amritsar, Delhi (India)

We had arranged for a taxi to pick us up at 8am for the drive from Shimla to Mcleod Ganj. The roads were windy and we were glad we hadn’t opted for the night bus. After a couple of chai stops, we made it to Mcleod Ganj in just over 7 hours and checked in to our hotel. We were upgraded to a mountain view room and the panorama was stunning. 

View from our room, Mcleod Ganj.

We didn’t waste much time before walking the mile downhill back in to the centre. Mcleod Ganj is a small town and the village below, Gangchen Kyishong, is home to the Tibetan Government in exile and His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, who claimed asylum in India following the Chinese invasion of Tibet in 1949, (the Dalai Lama left Tibet in 1959). It’s estimated that more than 250,000 refugees crossed the Himalayas to India and in Mcleod Ganj, you can’t walk 50 metres without seeing a monk or a string of prayer flags, the restaurants serve Tibetan food and the shops sell Tibetan handicrafts. Tibetan culture is being repressed in their homeland as they’re forced to assimilate into China, in India, the Tibetan’s are trying to ensure it’s not lost and forgotten. The Tibetan refugees are still fighting for the liberation of Tibet and being there makes you hope more than ever that one day soon it’ll happen. 

Tibetan propaganda, Mcleod Ganj.

Monks on the main street, Mcleod Ganj.

After exploring the shops for a while we stopped for dinner. Discovering it was Dalai Lama day and no Tibetan restaurant was serving meat, we ended up in a Punjab restaurant for Indian. 

Rhys’s allergies were playing up the next day so we delayed our planned day hike and spent the morning at our hotel. We walked in to town for lunch and to visit the Tsuglagkhang complex which comprises the official residence of the Dalai Lama, the Tibet museum and an important temple. As we entered we found groups of monks of all ages, scattered around the Gompa, deep in debate, stomping their feet and clapping their hands to get their points across. We watched for a while before wandering upstairs to visit the temple and stopping at the small museum on our way out. That night we walked back in to town again for a Tibetan meal, lots of dumplings and noodle soup.

The next day we woke to good weather. We laced up our hiking boots and headed out towards Dharamkot, a village not far from our hotel. Having found a dog (Bruno) who we enticed with biscuits and who stayed with us all day, we turned off the main road to an unpaved track, walking up hill to a small temple where we stopped for chai with commanding views of the Dhauladhar Ridge. Continuing, we followed an uneven goat track to Triund, a ridge at 2,855m, where we stopped for more chai as the clouds began to swirl in, obstructing the valley views. On the way down, the rain started and after spending an hour hiding out under cover at a chai stop, we decided to make a break for it. Walking about 18km in total we completed the walk in about 5 hours (without stops). Considering we’d been warned to allow 7-8 hours i’m now feeling a little more hopeful for the Everest trek next week.

The hike to Triund, Mcleod Ganj.

Rhys bribing Bruno, the hike to Triund, Mcleod Ganj.

We left Bruno at the turnoff to his house, sad to say goodbye, and headed back to our room to dry off and relax before walking back into town again for dinner.

We took a bus the following day to Pathankot from Mcleod Ganj,a bumpy, uncomfortable 4.5 hour journey with beautiful valley views to take our mind off it. The bus dropped us at the terminal for the government run buses to Amritsar and we didn’t have to wait long until we were on our way for the final 2.5 hours to our destination. We’d descended from the mountains by this point and were driving through rice paddies and pastures.

Once in Amritsar we jumped straight in a rickshaw to our hotel in the Old City, weaving through chaotic streets and peering into the shopfronts as we went. As it was already getting dark and there’s only so much exploring you can do in India before all the noise and hustle and bustle starts to break your resolve, we opted for a quick dinner at a small vegetarian Indian restaurant, (in the Golden Temple area, all the restaurants are vegetarian to Rhys’s disappointment), peering in at the temple through the archway as we passed, before bed. 

We were primarily in Amritsar to see the Golden Temple and wanted to visit for lunch so were in no rush and treated ourselves to a lay in. We ventured out for a morning coffee before handing in our shoes at the cloakroom, collecting a headscarf to cover our heads during our visit and walking through the shallow foot baths to the entrance. The Golden Temple is Sikhism’s holiest shrine and was full of pilgrims, every Sikhi is supposed to visit and volunteer at the temple for one week in their lifetime. The complex was beautiful and the temple itself glistened in the centre, covered in gilded copper plates (the gold said to weigh 750kg), reflected in the pool of sacred water in which it stands. Priests inside the central temple chant continuously and it’s broadcast throughout the complex.

Storm clouds rolling in at the Golden Temple, Amritsar.

We walked a circuit of the courtyard admiring the temple from all angles of the marble walkway, before reaching the dining hall. In line with the Sikhism central principal of equality, everyone is welcome for a free meal, no matter what religion or nationality. We joined the crowds, collected a tray and cutlery and were led into the hall where we took a seat on the floor in long rows. Before we’d got ourselves comfortable, people began walking the line and depositing scoops of food onto our trays, we had dhal, rice, roti and delicious rice pudding. Considering all the clattering outside it was peaceful and quiet while we ate. The kitchen prepares meals for around 80,000 people a day and they have the process down to a fine art.

Once we’d finished, we rejoined the throng, handing in our used trays to the chaotic and crowded washing up assembly line where literally hundreds of people were passing the trays into huge sinks, ready for the next hungry visitors. It was a great experience.

The sky was beginning to darken as we finished our lunch and we took it as a sign that our visit was over and we should head back to the hotel and as soon as we walked in the door a heavy rain storm hit. We had a couple of hours to while away before it was time to head to the taxi stands for a trip to the Pakistan border.

By 3pm the rain had mostly stopped so we made our way to the taxi stand where we had a ticket for a shared taxi to see the border closing ceremony at Attari. The border is only about 30km from town but with a chai stop and the traffic in Amritsar itself, it took us a while to get there. We parked up and headed off, me and Rhys being filtered into the foreigner queue to enter the border zone. Stupidly we didn’t think to take any ID and Rhys wasn’t carrying his wallet. They let me in on a soggy photocopy of my passport and Rhys somehow managed to get in using my drivers license. We took our seats and waited. 

As closing time drew near the music struck up on the Indian side and the women all clambered down to dance in the road, they looked like they were having a wail of a time. Officials handed girls huge Indian flags that they took turns to run to the Pakistani gate, it was like we’d stumbled upon a party rather than a border ceremony. The whole time, the Pakistani side was still and quiet, we could hear some music drifting over to us from their side but there was no dancing or flag running. 

Crowds on the Indian side of the Pakistani border.

When the ceremony finally started, there was a lot of shouting, drumming, marching and incredibly high leg kicks from both sides of the border. The show was choreographed by both sides together and they mirrored each others actions, considering the difficult relationship between the countries, it was nice to see them collaborating. The gates were opened, the guards performed some stamping and waggling trying to intimidate the other side before the flags were lowered and taken in for the night. Border closed. It was a bizarre sight and very drawn out but interesting to see and it might be the closest we ever get to visiting Pakistan.

Back at the car we had time for a chai before we were due to meet the driver and leave. 30 minutes later and we were still waiting, as they separate out all the men and women, one of the men in our car had managed to get himself lost. Finally he turned up and, tired, we headed back to Amritsar. 

As it was late and we had a stupidly early start the next day we grabbed sandwiches to eat in the room and quickly popped in to see the temple all lit up at night before bed.

The Golden Temple lit up at night, Amritsar.

The alarm went off at 3:45am and we rolled out of bed, dressed and finished packing to meet our 4am rickshaw to take us to the train station. We were booked on to a Shatabdi train again which is one of the nicer ones that serves breakfast and chai and biscuits. The journey took 6 hours before we arrived back in to Delhi. 

We’d spoken to a few people who had been badly conned on arrival in to Delhi and were half hopping someone would try it but instead we made it back to the hostel without any trouble. We checked in, dropped off our laundry and settled in for a nap. Leaving the room later than afternoon we finished up some shopping on Main Bazaar, sent yet another parcel home and ate Indian food in a roof top restaurant, far above the crazy streets below.

We made the most of our last lay in before Nepal and missed the free hostel breakfast. Instead, we stopped by a roof top cafe for chai before walking to the metro station. We jumped on a train south to visit Humayun’s Tomb. We’ve done so much sightseeing over the last month that another action packed day wasn’t that attractive so instead we decided to pick one site to visit, another Mughal Tomb. Built in the mid 16th century, the red sandstone tomb towers 30m over a small, peaceful park. Away from the crowds of Delhi’s streets, we wandered around visiting some smaller tombs in the grounds before turning to the main tomb, a wonderful display of early Mughal architecture in a style that was later refined and influenced the design of the Taj Mahal.

Humayun's Tomb, Delhi.

After the tomb we headed back to Pahar Ganj where we stopped to grab Rhys a sandwich before hiding from the heat in the room. Leaving Rhys to chill, I wandered out again later for a final tour of Main Bazaar, dodging the cows and the hawkers to buy some hippy PJ’s for our Everest trek. We ended up at the same roof top restaurant as the previous night for our final Indian feast. Food in India has been immense and even though i’m not vegetarian i’ve skipped meat for the majority of meals because the choice for vegetarian food has been amazing and delicious. 

We’ll be ready to leave India to have a break from the chaos and the noise but I can’t wait to come back one day. It’s an incredible country with so much to see, every corner hides something intriguing and colourful. We’ve managed a month without being conned (if you exclude the Pushkar Passport) and Rhys has only been ill once, all up, a success!

Week 102 - Jaipur, Agra, Delhi, Shimla (India)

The next day in Jaipur was another busy sightseeing day. Ali picked us up again in his autorickshaw, this time without Raja. We’d barely left our street before the rain started and pulled over to discuss whether we were making the right call heading out to Amber. We’d heard fabulous things about the Amber Fort and wanted to see it without getting drenched in the process. Thinking we could see the sky clearing on the outskirts of town we continued and by the time we reached the village the rain had stopped. The fort was huge, we were in awe.

Amber Fort, near Jaipur.

Amber was the ancient capital of Jaipur state until Singh Jai built his new city in 1727. The fort was begun in 1592 and towers over the valley with the village nestled below and the walls and battlements drapped over the surrounding hillsides. After a few photos of the honey coloured facade from the river side, we climbed through the gardens, to the main gate, dodging elephants carrying tourists up the hill. 

We spent the next couple of hours wandering around the fort admiring the courtyards, latticed galleries, mosaics and carved relief panels. As there weren’t many signs we just lost ourselves, exploring tiny little rooms and mazelike corridors. We stopped for coffee and cake before heading back out to the rickshaw, just as the rain blew back in. We ducked into the ticket office to wait out the worst of it, where a strange man asked if he could touch Rhys’s beard (that beard is getting way too much attention!) then made it out to the rickshaw. Although we could see the Jaigarh fort on the hill above Amber, the weather made visiting it a bad idea. If we had longer in Jaipur and blue skies, we would have loved to spent a day walking the walls of Amber, there’s always next time.

After Amber, and with an understanding of why everyone has been raving about the fort, we headed to the Elephant Village, not really knowing where we were going and what to expect. Rhys had a quick go driving the rickshaw on a quiet bit of road and then we turned into a small residential street. We pulled over and walked through a gate into a paddock where there was a beautiful elephant being fed. We wandered over to stroke her and watch, waiting for the manager to arrive. When he did, he started describing all these packages of things we could do with the elephants we weren’t really prepared for and didn’t have the cash for. We ended up giving a small donation before moving on to our next stop of the day, a drive by of the Palace of the Winds, Hawa Mahal.

A visit to the Elephant Village, near Jaipur.

It was a bit of a shame but our rickshaw couldn’t park near the Palace so I just hopped out and took some photos from the middle of the road, not really giving us a chance to admire the five storey, pink sandstone facade. The building was for the ladies of the royal household, where they could watch the city, hidden from view. Sadly we didn’t get a chance to go in to see the views from the roof but as the weather was still poor we were keen to continue on our way.

Hawa Mahal, Palace of the Winds, Jaipur.

Our final stop of the day was at the Albert Hall, housing the Central Museum. The building and museum seem to have poor reputations, both in our guidebooks but there was a decent collection of tribalware, costumes, weaponary, sculptures, coins and wood carvings and although we were pretty tired and just had a quick walk around, we enjoyed it.

The Albert Hall, Jaipur.

We were back at our hotel in the early afternoon, having seen everything we wanted in Jaipur and glad to be out of the rain.

After a beer on the rooftop we jumped in a rickshaw to the Peacock Rooftop Restaurant, a place that was recommended everywhere and where we hoped we’d be able to get Rhys some Western food since he was getting fed up eating Indian every night. We ended up at their second branch and were disappointed with the complete lack of atmosphere, having expected views and quirky furniture. We didn’t stay long and after our meal headed back to the room.

Our train wasn’t until the afternoon the following day so we had the morning to relax and run some chores. We got caught in a downpour when we popped out to get some passport photos for Rhys and spent the rest of the morning on the roof terrace enjoying a late breakfast.

Leaving Jaipur on a 3pm train, we headed to Agra. We’d only heard bad things about Agra, from tourists and Indians alike, so had really low expectations. We arrived after dark and took a rickshaw straight from the train station to our hotel in a gated area out of the centre of town. From the roof terrace of our hotel there were views of the Taj in the distance, strangely not lit up but sitting as a silhouette against the night sky. Even seeing such an iconic building at a distance was enough to get us excited and we ate dinner watching the Taj with lightening flashing in the distance.

Our first full day in Agra was a Friday and the Taj was closed to tourists, so we decided instead to hire a car and driver to visit Fatehpur Sikri, 40km west of the city. We were joined by another English guy from our hotel and headed out through the rain to the complex. We were caught in traffic and became the centre of attention with groups of people standing at the car window, peering in at us. Finally, we arrived at the fortified ancient city. Our driver dropped us at the rickshaw stand where we jumped in one to take us the last couple of kilometres to the entrance gate. 

Fatehpur Sikri was a short lived capital of the Mughal empire. Built by Akbar, the city was only inhabited for 14 years from 1571 to 1585 before lack of water meant the capital was moved. First, we visited the Jama Masjid mosque, still in use today, which we entered through the huge 54m tall Buland Darwaza (Victory Gate). Inside the courtyard we circled the grand exterior buildings, being bothered at every step by kids and men trying to sell postcards and necklaces - it was the most we’d been hassled since arriving in India. Opposite the main gate we came to the white marble tomb of the saint, Shaikh Salim Chishti, a beautiful building with stunning lattice work stone screens and mother of pearl decorations.

Jama Masjid, Fatehpur Sikri.

Leaving the mosque through a different gate, the Shahi Darwaza (King’s Gate), we walked to the palace complex, where after paying our entrance fee, we entered into a peaceful, hassle free complex. Akbar built three palaces, one for each of his favourite wives, one a Hindu, one a Muslim, and one a Christian. We visited ornamental pools, pavilions, halls and courtyards, marveling at the intricate carvings and the maze of buildings. It wasn’t too busy and the sun had come out so we enjoyed meandering around, taking photos and soaking up the atmosphere.  Back in the car we drove back through another rain storm to the hotel where we holed up in our room for the rest of the day. 

One of the courtyards inside the Fatehpur Sikri palace complex.

Inside the palace complex at Fatehpur Sikri.

We’d organised a rickshaw to collect us from our hotel at 6am the following day, having booked the driver for the whole day to see the sights of Agra. Although booking through our hotel was probably more expensive than arranging each trip as we went, it saved on a lot of hassle haggling every journey and meant we didn’t have to hunt for a rickshaw at 6am in the morning. The driver took us straight to the west gate of the Taj Mahal. We walked to the ticket office and just as we bought our tickets, the rain blew in and we spent 30 minutes hiding in a covered corridor hoping it would stop. 

It ended up drizzling for the entire time we were at the Taj and although that meant no photos with blue skies, it also kept the hordes away and meant we could walk around and enjoy the beauty of the place without fighting our way through streams of visitors - every year there are twice as many people visiting the Taj as that live in Agra itself. We weren’t disappointed, from the moment we stepped through the entry gate to the outer courtyard and were faced with one of the huge 30m red sandstone gates leading to the inner courtyard we were blown away. We wandered through the ornamental gardens following the watercourses, to the Taj itself. Taking off our shoes we climbed the raised marble platform to admire the white marble and carvings inlaid with semi precious stones. We walked through the central cenotaph before completing a lap of the building. 

View of the Taj Mahal, Agra. 

The Taj Mahal, Agra.

The Taj was built during the reign of Shah Jahan as a memorial for his second wide who died in 1631. The complex took 8 years and 20,000 people, from all over the world to build. Not long after, Shah Jahan was over thrown by his son, Aurangzeb and was kept captive in Agra Fort from where he could only gaze at the Taj from his window. 

We left the Taj through the south gate, emerging in the centre of Taj Ganj, the budget traveler centre of Agra, where the workmen who built the Taj set up home hundreds of years previously. We stopped at a roof top restaurant with views of the Taj for a breakfast banana pancake before heading back to meet our driver.

Agra itself was established as the capital in 1501 and fell into Mughal hands in 1526. Akbar, Jehangir and Shah Jahan all reigned from Agra before Aurangzeb moved the capital to Delhi in 1638. Although it’s a congested, dirty city, it has some beautiful buildings that were well worth visiting. We asked our driver to take us 10km north, to Sikandra, the sight of Akbar’s Mausoleum. Compared to the crowds at the Taj, the mausoleum was empty. We passed through a beautiful gateway to reach a courtyard, all built from red sandstone with white marble inlays and with antelope and peacocks grazing in the surrounding gardens - it’s crazy to see so many wild peacocks here.

Akbar's Mausoleum, Sikandra, near Agra.

Inside Akbar's Mausoleum, Sikandra, near Agra.

Next, we headed back in to town to the Itimad-ud-Daulah, the Baby Taj, another tomb, this time of a Persian nobleman who was minister to Jehangir and also his father-in-law. It was nothing like the Taj but did have some beautifully intricate carved screens and views over the Yamuna River. A short way away, we asked the rickshaw driver to stop at the Chini-ka-Rauza which was surprisingly quiet, yet another tomb, this one for the minister of Shah Jahan, built in the 1630’s. The tomb was once covered in bright blue mosaics and you can still see patches of the brilliant colours and designs. Beneath the tomb, on the banks of the river, temporary pavilions had been set up for some kind of festival and accompanying feast. We wondered down to watch the buffalo wallowing in the river and to see the people sitting around excitedly while huge cauldrons of food were stirred. 

Itimad-ud-Daulah, the Baby Taj, Agra.

Rhys outside the Itimad-ud-Daulah, the Baby Taj, Agra.

Local boy showing off his buffalo, the riverside, Agra.

Back at the rickshaw, we stopped at the Mehtab Bagh, a riverside park. Rather than paying to go into the park, having already seen similar ornamental gardens at the Taj, we walked along the side to the river front where we had perfect views of the Taj. As the weather had cleared the crowds had descended and we could see queues of people waiting to enter the building.

We had one more stop on our to do list and drove back in to Agra to the imposing Mughal fort. The red sandstone building, on the banks of the Yamuna River, was begun in 1565 by Akbar with the most important additions made by Shah Jahan in his favourite white marble. Initially it was intended for military purposes but Shah Jahan turned it into a palace. Much of the building has been destroyed over the years and the majority is closed and used by the Indian army. Nevertheless, the section that was open for visitors was impressive with towering gates, huge courtyards, rooms covered with mirror mosaics and views out to the Taj. 

Entrance gate to Agra Fort.

By the time we were finished at the fort we were tired and ready to head back to our room. Considering all the negative things we’d heard about Agra we’d enjoyed our stay and saw many incredible buildings. It may not be the kind of city you want to explore on foot but hiring a rickshaw for the day was the perfect way to see all the sights we wanted to visit.

We’d paid for late check out on our room since our train didn’t leave until 9pm. After picking up a Subway on the way back to the room to satisfy Rhys’s Western food cravings, we chilled until the evening. Our rickshaw driver collected us and dropped us at the station. Suddenly there were white people everywhere, the train we had booked was the one used by day trippers from Delhi. The train was delayed 30 minutes and we arrived in Delhi just before midnight. We’d booked into the hostel we’d stayed in during our first visit to Delhi and walked the short distance through Paharganj.

We were up early the next day to head back to the train station for the trip to Kalka. Having not had a full nights sleep we were pretty tired and grouchy. The trip was painless though and we were even served meals and drinks. Once in Kalka, we walked across the station to the Himalayan Queen, a toy train running through the mountains to Shimla.

We’d seen the train on TV before we came away and always thought it would be an experience. We were expecting carriages a little more luxurious and got stuck with seats next to a frosted window restricting the view a little. Rhys moved to sit in the open doorway and after the first hour, the couple sitting with us moved to an empty booth leaving me with an open window and great views. The toy train is a British built narrow gauge railway that takes 5 hours to travel from Kalka to Shimla, passing through 103 tunnels and crossing arched bridges as it slowly creeps it’s way through the mountains hugging the hillsides. The ride didn’t disappoint and the time flew by as we spent the entire time soaking in the views.

Rhys and the toy train on route to Shimla.

The toy train passing over a bridge on the way to Shimla.

Once we reached Shimla we jumped in a taxi to our hotel. As soon as we got there we were a little disappointed, although they’d upgraded us to the honeymoon suite, the room didn’t have a view and the circular bed and mirrors covering every available surface, made it feel a little distasteful. The hotel had great reviews from Indian tourists, I guess we just have different opinions on interior design. We wandered out to find the elevator that ran from the lower road to the pedestrianised Mall and found a better hotel to move to the following day that, although over budget, had stunning valley views that made it worth it. 

As soon as we reached the Mall our impression of Shimla changed, our original hotel was in a local area, in the centre of a crazy bazaar. The Mall is a pedestrianised street lined with decent shops and heritage buildings that make it look like a British high street. Fines are handed out for smoking in public, spitting and littering and plastic bags are banned and along with the altitude of 2,205m and the mountain air, it’s clean and fresh.

Shimla was a sleepy forest village until the British discovered it and decided to turn it into the official summer capital of the Raj, moving the whole government here from Delhi, each year from March to October. The town became India’s premier hill station. The centre of town is based around the Mall and the Ridge, where everyone strolls all day and through the evening, with views of the valleys falling away to either side. We spent our first evening sitting in a western cafe eating delicious pizza, overlooking some amazing British era buildings, the Town Hall and Police Station, that look like they’ve been transported here from home. 

British buildings in the centre of Shimla.

The next day we’d hoped to have a lay in in our extremely tasteful suite. It wasn’t to be. At 7am the water pump started and it sounded like some one was drilling into our head board. We were glad to pack up and leave, walking up the hill to our new hotel. Blown away by the view from our room, we set up camp and ordered a tea set to our room, popping out to a cake shop to buy a selection of chocolate, cream badness and biscuits, how British. We’d heard about the monkeys in Shimla being a little aggressive and sneaking in to open windows and jumped when one without a nose appeared at ours.

View from our bedroom window, Shimla Hotel White.

The clouds drifted in and the rain started just as we were getting ready to walk along the ridge. We waited but the weather didn’t improve so we ducked out and bought umbrellas before walking a few circles of the centre of town. Rhys stopped at a barbers and made the mistake of asking for his beard to be trimmed, the beard he’s been growing for months and was extremely proud of. He came out looking very trim and tidy, and very unhappy, it wasn’t at all what he was after, instead of a hipster beard, he’s now sporting a Dane Bowers/ carpet salesman look. The rain was still falling so we retired to the room, heading out again that evening for dinner. As it was Rhys’s Gramps’s funeral at home, we toasted his life while watching the sun set over the valley below. It was beautiful.

A toast to Rhys's Gramps, sunset from our room, Shimla.

The next day we woke to slightly better weather and decided to make the most of it, heading out to admire the buildings in the centre of town and to try and work out the deal with buses to our next stop, Dharamsala. The bus office was closed so we stopped by a coffee shop with views down the valley. When we found out our only option was 10 hours on a local bus we hunted down the cheapest taxi we could find. At only £35 it seemed more than worth it to us to avoid the hassle.

Afterwards, as the weather was holding out and we still need to wear in our new hiking boots before next week, we decided to walk to the Viceregal Lodge on the outskirts of town. We ended up following a well signposted heritage route that took us passed some beautiful Victorian and mock Tudor buildings. Rhys stopped to try to take a photo of a monkey in the trees and ended up being grabbed and chased, the monkey’s here really are aggressive. We reached the Lodge in no time and were struck with how British it all seemed. The Lodge is more of a Scottish manor house, built as the official residence of the British Viceroys. We wandered around the gardens before joining a short tour to see the inside of the building, now used as the Indian Institute of Advanced Study. It was a beautiful place and well worth the walk.

The Viceregal Lodge, Shimla.

We walked back into town, stopping for Rhys to grab lunch, before heading back to the room. After Rhys’s barber nightmare you would have thought i’d have learned but I stupidly ventured out too and had a similar experience, coming back with a Pat Sharpe mullet, absolutely horrendous.

Week 101 - Udaipur, Pushkar, Jaipur (India)

We’d arranged an 8am pick up for the drive to Udaipur and were disappointed to be told it had been delayed to 9am. We hung around in our room waiting until it was time to leave and then we had a misunderstanding about how many stops we were going to make along the way. Finally in agreement, we set off. The first part of the journey was through flat scrubland and we alternated between watching the world go by and dozing. 

As the journey progressed the landscape started to turn more green and lush with evidence of the monsoon rains. Our first stop was at Ranakpur, a white, superbly ornate, marble, Jain temple at the base of the Aravalli hills (apparently, the oldest range in the world, predating even the Himalayas). The complex, with the main temple built in 1439, is considered to be one of the finest in Rajasthan and one of the most important in India. We wandered around in awe at the intricacy of the carvings covering every available surface. There are 1,444 pillars in the complex and no two are the same. 

Ranakpur Temple.

Intricate carvings inside Ranakpur Temple.

Continuing along the winding country roads, dodging cows and herds of goats, our driver asked if we were hungry. We stopped at a little place with gorgeous valley views for a buffet lunch. It turned into the most intense meal I think i’ve ever had. The waiter watched over us through every bite, at one point he took a chapatti out of my hand and told me I couldn’t eat it and he’d get fresh ones and then he tried to give me a lesson in how to eat an aubergine, it was all very off putting and I was too scared to eat enough to get anywhere near our moneys worth. 

Back in the car we passed through a heavy rain storm as we followed the hills to Kumbalgarh, a huge stone fort, perched on the hill top with stunning views down into the valleys (all but hidden by the rain clouds). Built in the 15th century, the fort was used by Mewar rulers as a place to retreat in times of danger. It was taken only once in it’s history, when the water supply was poisoned, and then the invaders only managed to hold it for two days. The fort walls stretch 36km making it the second longest wall in the world and it encloses hundreds of temples, palaces and gardens. There was a break in the rain as we arrived and we rushed to the highest point, the Palace of Clouds, to see the view, the wall snaking in to the distance and the cluster of temples and buildings around the gate where we’d entered. We had another downpour just as we reached the top causing us to duck into a building to wait it out and then, when it passed over we hurried back to the bottom before it could start again. We had time for a quick walk around a few of the temples before jumping back in the car. It was a shame our visit was so rushed as it was an incredible sight but at least we got the chance to see it.

View from Palace of Clouds, Kumbalgarh Fort.

Kumbalgarh Fort.

We arrived in to Udaipur just before sunset and walked the rest of the way, down the winding cobblestone streets, to our hostel. It wasn’t until they took us to our room that we realised how close to the lake and palaces we were. We had a corner room with floor to ceiling windows on two sides and could lie in bed watching the giant fruit bats swoop within feet of our room as the sun set over the Lake Palace.

Sunset view from our room in Udaipur.

Udaipur has earned the moniker of‘Rajasthans most romantic city and I can understand why. The City Palace, which our hostel was next to, towers over Lake Pichola, one of four man made lakes, facing the photogenic Lake Palace that seems to float in the middle of the water. The city was founded in 1559 when Udai Singh took flight from the final sacking of Chittorgarh (he was the one who was brought up in Kumbalgarh fort). Although the old town itself is touristy with hundreds of places to stay, eat and shop, it’s easy to disappear into the cobbled backstreets where people perch on doorsteps chatting and the kids run about shouting and playing.

After spending the first night at the hostel, eating on the roof terrace overlooking the lake, we ventured out to explore on our second day. We followed the lake edge, stopping at bathing and dhobi (clothes washing) ghats and taking in the view of the Lake Palace, before crossing a bridge for views of the City Palace. The temperature was bearable and the streets were much quieter than anywhere else we’ve been. We wandered back towards the hostel, buying a heavy rug on the way, where Rhys went to chill in the room while I went to the Bagore-ki-Haveli, a very strange museum. 

The Lake Palace, Udaipur.

The haveli was another former prime ministers mansion, right on the waters edge and although some areas had been beautifully restored, others held bizarre collections of puppets, the worlds biggest turban and sculptures of world landmarks made from polystyrene.

Back at the hostel we hid from the midday sun, heading out again in the early evening for a tuktuk ride to the cable car station. The cable car took us to the summit of a hill with views out over the lake. It was a spectacular sight and we could see a number of the other lakes in the area as well as the City Palace and Lake Palace and Jagmandir Island. Rhys was feeling a bit under the weather so we didn’t actually stay for sunset and headed back to the room. That night, Rhys was feeling worse and stayed in the room while I went out to a roof terrace with views of the lit up City Palace for dinner.

The next day, Rhys was still feeling too unwell to leave the room. I walked over to the City Palace to explore. The palace in Udaipur is Rajasthans largest palace, a conglomeration of buildings created by various maharajas (the City Palace actually comprises 11 palaces), surmounted with balconies, cupolas and towers. I wandered through the museum, through courtyards full of shiny peacock mosaics, rooms covered floor to ceiling with minature paintings and mirror tiles and mazelike passages (built to confuse intruders), passed collections of armory, weapons, silverware and palanquins. It was huge and pretty tiring but I still had a boat trip on Lake Pichola to get a better view of the Lake Palace and to visit Jag Mandir to do. 

View of the Lake Palace from the City Palace, Udaipur.

It was a long walk down to the Palace promenade where I found the boat pier, where after an awkward group photo with me in the middle like a celebrity, I got squeezed into the last seat on a boat heading out on to the lake. We circled the Lake Palace, built in 1754 as the royal summer palace and completely covering the 1.5 hectares of the Jag Niwas island, before stopping at Jag Mandir, the second lake island on which stood another domed palace, built in 1620 (thought to be the inspiration for the Taj Mahal), circled by elephant statues and gardens. I didn’t stay for long before jumping back in the boat back to the City Palace.

By then, it was time to check on Rhys and I walked back to the hostel. After lunch on the roof terrace, overlooking the lake, I spent the next couple of hours going up and down the stairs to try and do the laundry. A quick visit to a nearby miniature painting shop and it was time for dinner. Rhys was starting to feel a little better and decided to join me.

We had an early start the following day, checking out of our amazing corner room before the sun rose to find a tuk tuk to take us the train station. We had a 6 hour journey in an aircon carriage without seats together and with tinted windows restricting our view. Nevertheless, the journey was painless and before we knew it we were in Ajmer. We dropped in to the tourist office at the train station briefly to find out the easiest way to Pushkar and ended up getting a taxi. 

Once in Pushkar, we checked in to our hotel and took some time to freshen up before wandering out to see the town. Much smaller than anywhere else we’ve been so far, Pushkar was also much dirtier, noisier and came with a lot more hassle, surprising since it’s a Hindu pilgrimage town. The stories claim that Brahma dropped a lotus flower on the earth and Pushkar appeared and the lake around which the town is clustered attracts hundreds of people a day to bath in it’s waters. It’s touristy and has a strange Israeli presence, for a not particularly nice town, it seems bizarre that so many Israelis now call this place home, all the restaurants even serve Israeli food. Although it was really interesting to see the hordes of pilgrims hustling along the streets, we were constantly dodging motorbikes with horns blaring, beggars and other people generally trying to make us give them money for nothing, spirituality has been truly commercialised in Pushkar.

It started raining heavily that afternoon and Rhys was still recovering, so we retreated to our hostel roof terrace for pakora whilst watching the tortoises shuffle around and the staff feed the black faced langur monkeys and chase the red bottomed rhesus macaques with sticks. The macaques are a bit aggressive so they’re not welcome but it’s a bit hard to feed one monkey without feeding the other. The monkeys take over the rooftops in the evenings, treating the town as their playground and it’s amusing to watch them swinging about. We had Israeli food at another roof top cafe (oh how I miss hummus) before bed. 

We had a well needed lay in the next day before meeting up with one of the hostel owners cousins who ran a courier service. We’d decided we were carrying too much weight and a parcel home was called for. After climbing on the back of his bike and narrowly missing women and cows, we arrived at his shop and sent another 8kg of souvenirs home, crossing our fingers that it reaches it’s destination.

Next, we decided to walk down to the lake. Pushkar Lake is surrounded by 52 bathing ghats, stairways giving access to the sacred waters to the hordes of pilgrims so they can take ritual baths to cleanse their souls. While in town we thought it only right that we joined in and took part in a puja (prayer). We were separated and sat down with priests on the stairs by the water where the symbolism of each of the flowers, pigments, sugar and rice were explained, before we had to join in with some chanting, washing hands in the lake water and sprinkling it over ourselves, praying for the health of our family and good karma. Rhys said a prayer for his Gramps who passed away this week and threw flower petals in the lake. We made our donation, received our Pushkar passports (a piece of coloured thread around your wrist) and continued on our lap of the lake, returning to our hostel via Sadar Bazaar, the main street, lined with stalls and shops. 

Pushkar Lake.

We wandered out again later that day to visit the 2,000 year old Brahma temple in town, one of only a handful of Brahma temples anywhere (Brahma being the Hindu Lord of Creation), and were caught up in the stampede that pushed up the marble stairs to the main temple. Although visually not very impressive, the piety of the people surrounding us was moving. We didn’t stay long and as we left the rains started to blow in. We escaped to a roof top terrace for lunch before hiding back in our room. We wandered back into town again to a roof top restaurant for dinner.

We had an early afternoon train the following day from Ajmer, so, after a lazy start, we took a taxi from Pushkar to the train station where we dropped our bags in the left luggage room. We took a rickshaw through the windy streets to the end of a pedestrianised area leading to the dargah, the tomb of a Sufi saint, Khhwaja Muin-ud-din Chishti, and a Muslim pilgrimage site. We couldn’t take the camera in so had to take it in turns to wander through the main gate and around the complex. The dargah was built in stages, mostly in the 16th century and was a little haven of peace away from the bustle of the street, with people sitting around, seemingly doing nothing, everywhere. As you walk through the courtyards you come across a mosque, the tomb itself, and two huge iron cauldrons for offerings for the poor. As with the Brahma temple, it wasn’t visually impressive but was an experience to people watch.

Entrance to the Dargah, Ajmer.

Our train left at 3pm and we arrived in Jaipur after dark, taking an autorickshaw to our hotel. We got chatting with the two boys who were driving our autorickshaw and arranged for them to collect us at the hotel the following day for sightseeing. We spent the rest of the evening on the roof terrace.

The boys were waiting for us at 10am as arranged. As we stepped out of the hotel it started to rain, and it pretty much continued on and off for the whole time we were in Jaipur. Jaipur is a very different city to those we’d visited so far, instead of the ancient twisty roads, this city had a more modern feel to it. In 1727, Jai Singh decided to build a new city, moving from the fort at Amber. It was built according to the principles set out in an ancient Hindu architectural treatise, separated into nine rectangular blocks where people of different castes would reside. Later, in 1876, the Maharaja had the entire city painted ‘pink’, earning Jaipur the nickname, the ‘pink city’ (which is definitely more of a terracotta than a pink).

Our first stop, just as the rain started to subside, was at the Jantar Mantar, a peculiar site within the old city walls. Jai Singh was a keen astronomer and built a huge observatory in the centre of the city. As the sun wasn’t out and the instruments only work in sunlight we just walked around the massive structures without a guide, weaving between 27m tall sun dials and instruments for estimating when the monsoon would arrive and the timing of eclipses.

The sun dial in Jantar Mantar, Jaipur.

Next, after Rhys stopped to sit with some snake charmers, we crossed the road to the City Palace, a vast complex of courtyards and buildings. The first courtyard was centred on the Mubarak Mahal (Welcome Palace) which housed a textiles museum and there was another interesting armory museum housed in the former apartments of the wives of the maharaja. We stopped to peer up at the Chandra Mahal, the seven storey residence of the descendants of the maharaja, before continuing into the Pitan Niwas Chowk, the highlight of the palace for me, a courtyard with four beautiful gates representing the four seasons.

Snake charmers, Jaipur.

The City Palace, Jaipur.

Me at one of the gates of Pitan Niwas Chowk, City Palace, Jaipur.

Back at the rickshaw, the rain started again as we rode out of the city walls to the Royal Gaitor, the location of the royal cenotaphs (including that of Jai Singh). Again, just as we arrived the rain stopped and we had the place to ourselves, wandering around the intricately carved monuments to the the soundtrack of peacocks. It was incredibly beautiful.

Me at the Royal Gaitor, Jaipur.

The Royal Gaitor, Jaipur.

We were talked into climbing the hill to the Ganesh temple, against our better judgment. As we made it to the top, where the temple was closed, the rain started again, with one umbrella to share we didn’t stand much of a chance. We squelched back to the rickshaw and agreed we’d make one more stop before heading back to the hotel to dry off.

Our final stop was at Galta and the Surya Mandir, otherwise known as the Monkey Temple. We bought a bag of peanuts at the bottom of the hill before walking up to the temple, with views out over Jaipur. It wasn’t the most beautiful temple but it was worth it to see Rhys reach for the peanuts only to throw them on the floor as he was mobbed by 30 or so aggressive Rhesus Macaques.

Back at the hotel we dried off before retiring to the roof terrace where we ended up chatting to a Welsh couple and a German guy, who we then tagged along with for dinner. We went to a small local eatery with the most amazing BBQ chicken. Rhys had been dying for meat having eaten vegetarian for the past three days and the food was delicious.