18 hours on an overnight train can disappear surprisingly quickly when you sleep for 13 of them, but a quick glance behind the velvet red curtain was enough to confirm that the brown grey streets of Mumbai were long behind us. The overcrowded platforms, mounds of rubbish and derelict high rises had been replaced by one woman, a camel, and flat farmland as far as the eye could see. The sudden expanse of green was a pleasant surprise, but it was probably the camel more than anything that made us wonder just how far we'd come.
If our experience in Mumbai had poisoned us against India at all, and it probably had a little, then nothing could have come as more perfect an antidote than Jaipur. Just about everything in the city stood in stark contrast of the overburdened metropolis from which we'd arrived. Gone were the gridlocked tarmaced highways, replaced with wide dusty strips, still half under construction and populated by the widest variety of traffic I have seen anywhere. Our tuk tuk from the station, (a four seater variety large enough for all of us plus bags), weaved it's way past other tuk tuks, cars, busses, trucks, vans, motorcycles, bicycles, rickshaws, horse drawn carts, oxen drawn carts, camel drawn carts, man drawn carts, men pushing barrows of fruit, a herd of cattle followed by a harassed looking man with a stick, and an elephant. It was nice to see that even the Indian drivers had enough sense to avoid cutting up the elephant which was the only form of transport without a horn of any kind, presumably on the basis that tusks are enough.
Despite the huge population of animals in the city, Jaipur still manages to keep its streets, and everything else in fact, remarkably clean. Certainly to the standard of some of the bigger cities in the UK. The hotel we'd booked ourselves into was, to put it mildly, a revelation. The Laxmi Palace was costing us less a night than the small bunk bedded closet we'd had in Mumbai, but instead we had two vast rooms, spotless, both with en-suites, air conditioning, huge double beds, free internet, a rooftop veranda with chairs and a table overlooking the streets below and the most helpful staff I've met in any hotel anywhere. They happily spent a good hour and a half with Dom on one night to help us plan out the next few days in Jaipur, and the following night the chef readily agreed to give him a personal tuition on how to make one of their excellent curries. Nothing was too big a thing to ask, nothing too small, and a nicer bunch you couldn't hope to meet anywhere.
Maybe it was the relief of being out of Mumbai, but everyone in Jaipur appeared a welcome friendly face. Walking down the main market street we found that almost no-one hassled us on our way. The shop/stalls lined up one after another between the sandstone columns of the well covered sidewalks, set back a few feet into the stonework, all selling a familiar brand of happy go lucky tat and questionable pastry snacks. The sweet smell of incense competes with the sizzle of frying onions and both tempt us more than once. Crossing the street is an experience in itself. The traffic doesn't stop and its all traveling at different speeds. If in doubt its best to find a donkey or bicycle to step out in front of, there's less chance of serious injury.
In between the stalls narrow staircases disappear off the street leading to more shops on the rooftops above, mostly jewlry stores sporting some of Jaipur's famous stonework at occasionally ridiculous prices. One of the locals, after a brief conversation about the cricket, directed us to a spiraling iron staircase that led three floors up to a rooftop view of the city. For anyone familiar with the game 'Assassin's Creed', the panorama that greeted us would be astonishingly recognisable, but for anyone not so inclined it's a view I would recommend to anyone.
Jaipur is a city nestled in a funnel shaped, open ended valley. The city is curtailed at one end by steeply climbing scrub forest hills, the first we'd seen for miles. At their top, silhouetted against the deep orange sky are massive sandstone forts with great dry stone battlements that tower above the stunted forests below. Huge adjoining walls drape themselves at impossible angles down the hillside, with imposing circular watch towers dotted along their length, standing like beacons over the city below. In the other direction the city spreads itself to the horizon, a melange of twisting streets and back alleys populated by brightly coloured fruit venders and punctuated by soaring stone towers and palaces that scatter the skyline. In front of us a beautifully carved circular tower rises from the flat rooftops, wooden lattice windows on every side and stone carved facades giving it an almost medieval feel. Pidgeons circle in flocks around its dome, nesting in the rafters, and high above a hawk hovers on the rising warm air.
As the sun sets behind the hills and the shadows lengthen the temperature drops and the markets below come alive. Everything in the city stays open well into the evening and at night the air is filled with the inviting calls from shop owners and the honking of tuk tuk horns. With the sun low in the sky, all of us look out over the darkening rooftops and feel for the first time that India might have more to offer than the crowds of Mumbai. A brighter contrast you couldn't find anywhere, and for that we are extremely thankful.
George
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