From Kevin:
For our last full day in Jaipur, Lindsey and I decided to be good little tourists and hit up some more of the spots recommended in the Old City (aka Pepto Bismo Walls Land). Before we get into that, let me digress into two more appealing reasons to visit Jaipur.
One, the streets double as a zoo. So remember how I said Jaipur is a big city? Just like any other big city, it has a lot of traffic with fast cars. Don’t think of small, dirt roads with some horse carts, think of multilane cement thoroughfares with automotive vehicles of all sorts whizzing by. And yet, in the middle of this gas guzzling menagerie, you’ll find cows,
donkeys,
pigs,
horses,
camels,
and even elephants.
As hard as I may try, I just cannot imagine a 15 ft pachyderm meandering its way down the 101 in the bay or the Gene Snyder back in Louisville. I don’t think Louisville Metro PD would be too pleased.
Another draw to Jaipur is the charming Tuk Tuk drivers. Even after we pledged our loyalty to Israr, there were other colorful personalities we found. For example, Vishu.
I was about to write Vishu off as another obnoxious, persistent driver demanding we use his services. But rather than use a tired line like “You need ride!” or “Very cheap!” Vishu laid down this gem instead:
“Come on, you want to take a ride in my Ferrari!”
While perhaps being a bit liberal with poetic license, Vishu plucked my heartstrings with his garish flare. Even though we had already politely declined a ride in his “ferrari,” Vishu ambushed us later on our walk, eager to have another go at us. This time it was:
“Hello Ali Baba Santa Claus! Perhaps you take a ride later?”
Apparently my unkempt beard was giving me quite the appearance. I told Vishu “maybe” and exchanged cell numbers, although in my heart of hearts, I knew I could never betray Israr.
Speaking of, I think Israr really made Jaipur a special place for both Lindsey and me. I still remember our first time meeting him at the Jaipur train station. Amidst the frenzied offers for Tuk Tuk rides, up came this island of calm, with his shirt unbuttoned just enough to give that carefree attitude while still sticking professional (at least Kevin -style professional). Many Tuk Tuk drivers possess only basic English skills, enough to get you from point A to point B (or not, and you arrive at random point C) and then argue with you over the fare. Israr though spoke great English and did so in a calm, cool manner, dripping with wit and jest. He did a great job taking us all over the city and showing us the sights, and dolling advice on what to do (Royal Gaitor) and not to do (buy anything in the Pink City). We had a great lunch together and Israr was very open about his life and asked about ours too back in the states. And even once the paid portion of our time with Israr was finished, we still hung out a couple times over cups of chai. A true gent.
Now that I’ve dabbed my eyes a little, back to our last day in Jaipur. Lindsey and I decided that a trip to Jaipur would just not be complete without visiting the Pink City district, despite Israr’s admonitions. Yet, (somewhat) on the walk there was conveniently situated the silver and jewelry shop we had visited the first day. Alas, the sparkling and glittering stones were too much for me, I succumbed and had myself a bit of a shopping spree.
After what was at least an hour of shuffling around stones and prices, with both me and the jeweler adequately annoyed with each other and Lindsey half asleep on the couch, I purchased around 50 colorful little minerals (to help fuel a little hobby of mine).
And then off we set for those glorious salmon-hued gates.
One reason we wanted to check out the Pink City was just to experience it and see what all the hoopla was about. I think Lindsey and I got sufficient hoopla within 5 minutes of being inside. Imagine Quincy Market, Fisherman’s Wharf, and perhaps a touch of Times Square all rolled together and then dipped in bubble gum, with a few cows tossed in, that’s the Pink City. Our Lonely Planet guide mused about the different bazaars within the district, each with its own specialty (textiles, silver, etc,). Instead, Lindsey and I found rows of shops with t-shirts sporting the likes of “I’m with stupid,” five dollar sandals, and knockoff statues and jewelry. It could be that Lindsey and I were simply too obtuse to take in the quirky charm of the bazaars, but charm us they did not.
We kicked it into high gear and started doing a Boston power walk through the busy sidewalks so that we could get to some hopefully more enjoyable touristy spots. One such spot was the Hawa Mahal.
I did find this architectural beauty to be quite, well, beautiful. Constructed at time in which noble women were not allowed to be seen in public, the ornate screens concealed these women from the public eye while allowing them to observe the spectacles of the plaza below. Kind of like an old school, giant version of the police one-way mirror, but way prettier.
Checking the time, we realized that we were now under a time crunch to get back to our hotel to meet some friends for dinner. So our Boston power walk went into overdrive and we took the blitz tour of the City Palace. This is a good option if the palace grounds are closing in less than an hour or you’re running late for dinner (we met both criteria).
The main courtyard offered a nice reprieve from the incessant honking of the busy streets outside. We got to see the biggest silver vases I’ve ever set eyes upon, used by a quite dedicated Hindu Raj, who filled these puppies up with holy water from the Ganges and brought them on his trip to England so he would always have the holy water at his side.
Lindsey and I got to walk around an art gallery and the royal meeting room, where the ruling Raj would meet with foreign dignitaries, atop a plush red carpet and under sparkling chandeliers (again, women were barred from attending and were relegated to watching the proceedings from a screened balcony above). Portraits and placards of the different Rajs offered a glimpse into the wide variety of past rulers of Jaipur. One Raj assumed the throne while still only a toddler, another died during a polo match in London when he was in his late 50s. Sorry folks, no pictures here due to the multitude of “No Photography” signs warning of strict punishment.
Moving on from the meeting room, we headed over to the textile museum. After conflicting instructions on how to enter from different museum officials, we finally surmised that the museum had already closed. But, the weapons museum was still open. Woohoo!
I found the wide array of daggers, swords, guns, and other pointy things to be a testament to both the artistic talent of humans as well as our brutality. Many of the knives were made with ornate handles and carvings, some of the blades were even inscribed with poetry. And yet, every instrument crafted in that room was intended to cause harm to another person. Perhaps one day we’ll get to a point where all instruments of harm will only be in museums. One can always hope.
Our last stop at the city palace was the Jantar Mantar, the royal observatory built by a particularly inquisitive and scientific Raj in the 1700s. Having only really learned about Western contributions to astronomy in my formal education, I was quite intrigued to learn more about how a totally different culture went about studying the cosmos. Alas, closing hours wait for no one and I had to imagine the structures through the closed off entrance. I did get this glimpse of another observatory in Varanasi though (I believe the structures are somewhat similar to, and smaller than, the ones in Jaipur).
Realizing we probably saw all we were going to see of the City Palace that day, we hailed a Tuk Tuk (Sir Israr was tied up) and high tailed it back to our hotel where we met Ashira and Andy for dinner. In a Jerry Springer manner of relations, I was introduced to Ashira via email from a friend of hers who heads the organization of which the board chair is a good friend of Lindsey’s uncle (it’s ok, that deserves a second read through). I first talked to Ashira by phone back in the states where she imparted all sorts of advice on how to get around Nepal and India and make the most of it. It was great to actually meet in person, let alone half way around the world. Ashira and her boyfriend Andy are doing some really cool work in India involving handcrafted textiles made by women and providing women an opportunity to support themselves after escaping slavery. You can check out more about it here.
And a little more about the rooftop restaurant at Sunder Palace, where Lindsey and I had several lovely dinners. While this spot offers a nice, peaceful gnoshing ground during the day, it transforms into a magical wonderland at night, something I may have imagined in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
A gentle breeze blows across my face, offering a most welcome cool down from the sweaty day. A flame dances on the candle housed in a colored glass box on the table and Christmas-style lights offer a nice glow of the entire roof top. Some sitar-laden melody flows from the speakers (sometimes weaving into Top 40). And then I get to sit across from my special someone, taking it all in. Yes, magical nights indeed!
We left Jaipur in our usual style, waking up at some ungodly hour and trying to find a Tuk Tuk driver who had done the same. Off to the train station we went, into the train car we entered, and onto the beds we slept. Next stop: New Delhi.
For our last full day in Jaipur, Lindsey and I decided to be good little tourists and hit up some more of the spots recommended in the Old City (aka Pepto Bismo Walls Land). Before we get into that, let me digress into two more appealing reasons to visit Jaipur.
One, the streets double as a zoo. So remember how I said Jaipur is a big city? Just like any other big city, it has a lot of traffic with fast cars. Don’t think of small, dirt roads with some horse carts, think of multilane cement thoroughfares with automotive vehicles of all sorts whizzing by. And yet, in the middle of this gas guzzling menagerie, you’ll find cows,
donkeys,
pigs,
horses,
camels,
and even elephants.
As hard as I may try, I just cannot imagine a 15 ft pachyderm meandering its way down the 101 in the bay or the Gene Snyder back in Louisville. I don’t think Louisville Metro PD would be too pleased.
Another draw to Jaipur is the charming Tuk Tuk drivers. Even after we pledged our loyalty to Israr, there were other colorful personalities we found. For example, Vishu.
I was about to write Vishu off as another obnoxious, persistent driver demanding we use his services. But rather than use a tired line like “You need ride!” or “Very cheap!” Vishu laid down this gem instead:
“Come on, you want to take a ride in my Ferrari!”
While perhaps being a bit liberal with poetic license, Vishu plucked my heartstrings with his garish flare. Even though we had already politely declined a ride in his “ferrari,” Vishu ambushed us later on our walk, eager to have another go at us. This time it was:
“Hello Ali Baba Santa Claus! Perhaps you take a ride later?”
Apparently my unkempt beard was giving me quite the appearance. I told Vishu “maybe” and exchanged cell numbers, although in my heart of hearts, I knew I could never betray Israr.
Speaking of, I think Israr really made Jaipur a special place for both Lindsey and me. I still remember our first time meeting him at the Jaipur train station. Amidst the frenzied offers for Tuk Tuk rides, up came this island of calm, with his shirt unbuttoned just enough to give that carefree attitude while still sticking professional (at least Kevin -style professional). Many Tuk Tuk drivers possess only basic English skills, enough to get you from point A to point B (or not, and you arrive at random point C) and then argue with you over the fare. Israr though spoke great English and did so in a calm, cool manner, dripping with wit and jest. He did a great job taking us all over the city and showing us the sights, and dolling advice on what to do (Royal Gaitor) and not to do (buy anything in the Pink City). We had a great lunch together and Israr was very open about his life and asked about ours too back in the states. And even once the paid portion of our time with Israr was finished, we still hung out a couple times over cups of chai. A true gent.
Now that I’ve dabbed my eyes a little, back to our last day in Jaipur. Lindsey and I decided that a trip to Jaipur would just not be complete without visiting the Pink City district, despite Israr’s admonitions. Yet, (somewhat) on the walk there was conveniently situated the silver and jewelry shop we had visited the first day. Alas, the sparkling and glittering stones were too much for me, I succumbed and had myself a bit of a shopping spree.
After what was at least an hour of shuffling around stones and prices, with both me and the jeweler adequately annoyed with each other and Lindsey half asleep on the couch, I purchased around 50 colorful little minerals (to help fuel a little hobby of mine).
And then off we set for those glorious salmon-hued gates.
One reason we wanted to check out the Pink City was just to experience it and see what all the hoopla was about. I think Lindsey and I got sufficient hoopla within 5 minutes of being inside. Imagine Quincy Market, Fisherman’s Wharf, and perhaps a touch of Times Square all rolled together and then dipped in bubble gum, with a few cows tossed in, that’s the Pink City. Our Lonely Planet guide mused about the different bazaars within the district, each with its own specialty (textiles, silver, etc,). Instead, Lindsey and I found rows of shops with t-shirts sporting the likes of “I’m with stupid,” five dollar sandals, and knockoff statues and jewelry. It could be that Lindsey and I were simply too obtuse to take in the quirky charm of the bazaars, but charm us they did not.
We kicked it into high gear and started doing a Boston power walk through the busy sidewalks so that we could get to some hopefully more enjoyable touristy spots. One such spot was the Hawa Mahal.
I did find this architectural beauty to be quite, well, beautiful. Constructed at time in which noble women were not allowed to be seen in public, the ornate screens concealed these women from the public eye while allowing them to observe the spectacles of the plaza below. Kind of like an old school, giant version of the police one-way mirror, but way prettier.
Checking the time, we realized that we were now under a time crunch to get back to our hotel to meet some friends for dinner. So our Boston power walk went into overdrive and we took the blitz tour of the City Palace. This is a good option if the palace grounds are closing in less than an hour or you’re running late for dinner (we met both criteria).
The main courtyard offered a nice reprieve from the incessant honking of the busy streets outside. We got to see the biggest silver vases I’ve ever set eyes upon, used by a quite dedicated Hindu Raj, who filled these puppies up with holy water from the Ganges and brought them on his trip to England so he would always have the holy water at his side.
Lindsey and I got to walk around an art gallery and the royal meeting room, where the ruling Raj would meet with foreign dignitaries, atop a plush red carpet and under sparkling chandeliers (again, women were barred from attending and were relegated to watching the proceedings from a screened balcony above). Portraits and placards of the different Rajs offered a glimpse into the wide variety of past rulers of Jaipur. One Raj assumed the throne while still only a toddler, another died during a polo match in London when he was in his late 50s. Sorry folks, no pictures here due to the multitude of “No Photography” signs warning of strict punishment.
Moving on from the meeting room, we headed over to the textile museum. After conflicting instructions on how to enter from different museum officials, we finally surmised that the museum had already closed. But, the weapons museum was still open. Woohoo!
I found the wide array of daggers, swords, guns, and other pointy things to be a testament to both the artistic talent of humans as well as our brutality. Many of the knives were made with ornate handles and carvings, some of the blades were even inscribed with poetry. And yet, every instrument crafted in that room was intended to cause harm to another person. Perhaps one day we’ll get to a point where all instruments of harm will only be in museums. One can always hope.
Our last stop at the city palace was the Jantar Mantar, the royal observatory built by a particularly inquisitive and scientific Raj in the 1700s. Having only really learned about Western contributions to astronomy in my formal education, I was quite intrigued to learn more about how a totally different culture went about studying the cosmos. Alas, closing hours wait for no one and I had to imagine the structures through the closed off entrance. I did get this glimpse of another observatory in Varanasi though (I believe the structures are somewhat similar to, and smaller than, the ones in Jaipur).
Realizing we probably saw all we were going to see of the City Palace that day, we hailed a Tuk Tuk (Sir Israr was tied up) and high tailed it back to our hotel where we met Ashira and Andy for dinner. In a Jerry Springer manner of relations, I was introduced to Ashira via email from a friend of hers who heads the organization of which the board chair is a good friend of Lindsey’s uncle (it’s ok, that deserves a second read through). I first talked to Ashira by phone back in the states where she imparted all sorts of advice on how to get around Nepal and India and make the most of it. It was great to actually meet in person, let alone half way around the world. Ashira and her boyfriend Andy are doing some really cool work in India involving handcrafted textiles made by women and providing women an opportunity to support themselves after escaping slavery. You can check out more about it here.
And a little more about the rooftop restaurant at Sunder Palace, where Lindsey and I had several lovely dinners. While this spot offers a nice, peaceful gnoshing ground during the day, it transforms into a magical wonderland at night, something I may have imagined in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
A gentle breeze blows across my face, offering a most welcome cool down from the sweaty day. A flame dances on the candle housed in a colored glass box on the table and Christmas-style lights offer a nice glow of the entire roof top. Some sitar-laden melody flows from the speakers (sometimes weaving into Top 40). And then I get to sit across from my special someone, taking it all in. Yes, magical nights indeed!
We left Jaipur in our usual style, waking up at some ungodly hour and trying to find a Tuk Tuk driver who had done the same. Off to the train station we went, into the train car we entered, and onto the beds we slept. Next stop: New Delhi.
