At origin, this was essentially a travel blog - a retrospective travelog if you will.
Our top port of call was the Mehrangarh Fort which we tootled up to in our TukTuk. On the way we stopped at another beautiful temple. Now in the past, I said I was forted-out. This fort was different. It had an audio-guide. And the person who read the audio-guide was someone who sounded suspiciously like Prince Philip doing an Indian accent.
The views were breathtaking. Quite honestly, I don't think this post needs many words as the pictures are really enough.
Inside the fort were incredible artefacts. Here are some of the howdahs (seats you put on an elephant's back):
There are seven gates that guard Mehrangarh Fort. One gate had massive spikes to prevent elephants storming the fort. The pictures below are of the last gate and show the handprints of the ranis (Hindu Queens) who self-immolated on their husband, Maharaja Man Singh's funeral pyre in 1843. This custom is known as Sati and was a funeral practice which has ancient origins in the Hindu faith. As an act of devotion, the wives joined their husbands in death. Quite unbelievably, it wasn't until 1987 that the Indian Government passed the law to prevent Sati. In Jodphur, the last known case was 1953.
One bizarre room had Christmas baubles.
I had Henna and felt very cultural.
It has over time metamorphosed into a travelog melged/intertwingled* with general observations and musings.
Today, let us move back to the intended purpose and inspiration - INDIA.
So, some details will be hazy but as my good friends Kayleigh and Katie always say, I have a ridiculously good memory so hopefully I will have remembered enough for this to be interesting. (Also, Faye, who actually kept a diary whilst we were there, has filled in the blanks.)
As our fantastic tour guide was such a legend (thanks Tucan Travel), he had a friend who had a friend who could take us to Jodphur in a privately air conditioned car. So? some might say. But let us hark back to the hellish journey we had to get to Pushkar. We had squidged into a dirty bus, heads back, catching flies, zipping down the highway. We had been left stranded on a dusty road, sun pelting down on our transluscent skin** - Karrimors on our poor spindly backs, baby Karrimors on our fronts, one dollar ray bans on our eyes and sweaty derrieres - hot as bitches. We had had to trust in a stranger to motorbike us one by one to our destination.
Now we had a private air-conditioned car with a driver. We were in the lap of luxury.
Now we had a private air-conditioned car with a driver. We were in the lap of luxury.
We said teary farewells to our group. Again. They were off to Udaipur - the Lake City. We were jealous. But when you only have two weeks off work, you have to move fast. And we had Jodphur, Jaisalmer and a 19 hour train journey to fit in before our flights.
The four hour car journey flew by like a dream. Mainly because I slept.
We arrived in Jodphur, were led to a back-street hotel, had a quick banana lassi and then got into our private TukTuk ready for our very quick tour of the city. We had an overnight train booked for that evening so it was to be a jam-packed.
Jodphur is known as the Blue City. Here are some photos to show you why. Furthermore, I decided to wear a blue dress so that the sky, the dress and houses would bring out the colour of my eyes... (and take the attention off my dry skin chin***). It was stunning.****
Our top port of call was the Mehrangarh Fort which we tootled up to in our TukTuk. On the way we stopped at another beautiful temple. Now in the past, I said I was forted-out. This fort was different. It had an audio-guide. And the person who read the audio-guide was someone who sounded suspiciously like Prince Philip doing an Indian accent.
The views were breathtaking. Quite honestly, I don't think this post needs many words as the pictures are really enough.
There are seven gates that guard Mehrangarh Fort. One gate had massive spikes to prevent elephants storming the fort. The pictures below are of the last gate and show the handprints of the ranis (Hindu Queens) who self-immolated on their husband, Maharaja Man Singh's funeral pyre in 1843. This custom is known as Sati and was a funeral practice which has ancient origins in the Hindu faith. As an act of devotion, the wives joined their husbands in death. Quite unbelievably, it wasn't until 1987 that the Indian Government passed the law to prevent Sati. In Jodphur, the last known case was 1953.
One bizarre room had Christmas baubles.
I had Henna and felt very cultural.
* ©
**Huge exaggeration. We were of course very tanned by this point and very much Bobby Ds.
*** Which now obviously you are going to look out for because I told you not to.
**** The city. Not my eyes.
And obviously not my chin.
**Huge exaggeration. We were of course very tanned by this point and very much Bobby Ds.
*** Which now obviously you are going to look out for because I told you not to.
**** The city. Not my eyes.
And obviously not my chin.
No comments:
Post a Comment