Author: Jess Williams
We had just a day in Delhi. Both of us live London so we weren’t particularly excited by big cities and I left with no great fondness of the place. This was down to a couple of factors. First, many Delhi hotels have bedbugs and ours was no exception. They appeared when it was too late to find somewhere better so it was an itchy night. Second, we had not toughened up and could not say no to a taxi tour of the city. We handed over money for the day and got taken to the best sights. The Red Fort was nice, and I particularly liked the squirrels that live there. They take nuts right from your hand. The place where Gandhi was assassinated would have been more interesting if we had known what it was: our guide did not think to tell us. In fact he was much more interested in taking us to shops. They have these bazaars, you see, where you are sold carpets and sarees and scarves and statues and jewellery and… and the taxi drivers get commission for taking us there. When we said we didn’t want to go to another shop, he got all grumpy and wouldn’t take us anywhere else. He wasn’t our friend.
The next day was the must see of India. Agra and the Taj Mahal. You must get sick of hearing it but people do not exaggerate about the Taj: it is simply breath-taking. It is a perfectly symmetrical, glowing white structure that seems to grow suddenly, halfway through the elegant gardens. A trusty audio tour give you the whole romantic story about a mourning husband who lost the love of his life. It is interesting that his is the bigger tomb though.
It’s not all awe and beauty though. A little comedy comes from the hordes of visitors walking around in baggy white socks, like a mop hat for the foot. May as well get the tourists to buff the marble: it’d cost a fortune otherwise.
And then there is the constantly bewildering fact that many people are more interesting in taking pictures of you than this stunning monument that is behind them. We somehow have several group photos with complete strangers. It was like being famous…it’s a hard life .
This was just a day trip for us so we didn’t see much else of town. We did treat ourselves to a rickshaw ride around town though. It’s super cheap. My advice is haggle hard for the best price, as it’s part of the fun then tip generously. They work hard to lug us around. I had a go. It wasn’t ideal as I couldn’t reach the pedals, but I could tell I wouldn’t be a natural.
The next port of call was Pushkar, in the magical fairytale India that is Rajasthan. If I go back to India (and I hope I do) I would love to spend more time in the area. It is the India of my childhood dreams.
Pushkar itself is small and pretty touristy, but its go a good vibe. You meet people in the street that you talked to at dinner the evening before. You find a good place for lunch and make friends with the owner. The streets are colourful and strung with hippy clothes and craft, and they centre on the holy lake.
This lake is just lovely, tranquil and surrounded by blue building, and the most elegant and practically choreographed pigeon flocks I’ve ever seen. Pushkar pigeons could teach those at Trafalgar Square a thing or two.
If you want to avoid giving money to the Brahmins however, avoid the lake. I was swept along with a priest who prayed for my family and health (nice of him). I had to throw rice in the lake and was ordered to give money for good karma. I’m all for getting involved in the culture but I also like choice. On the bright side, if you pay you get a string bracelet so they know they already got you next time you pass, as well as a bag of incredibly moreish prayer sweets. I’d swap my good karma for them anyday.
A particular treat in Pushkar was the camel ride. You can find the camel owners all over the place. Don’t bother with booking through a hotel, go right to the source to get a good deal. Again, we paid surprisingly little but tipped well for an incredible evening. Thank you Pawel, our desert guide, and thank you Mowgli, my camel, who was both noble and truly photogenic.
We stopped to watch the sunset over the desert and some gypsies musicians came to serenade us with some fascinating instruments that I have never seen before, but sounded like the wind in the sand dunes and a cry at dusk. That was, until I had a go. Then it sounded like a cat being stood on.
The darkness took us home at a not-entirely-comfortable trot.