Jaipur, the Pink City, my entry point into the desert state of Rajasthan and fourth stop on my travels. While not technically pink everywhere, the older walled-in part of the city is. And 11km north of the city limits lies Amber Fort, which is in fact the colour of amber. Although I didn't make it to Amber this time around, much to my dismay, I am sure you will understand my reasons for limiting my stay in Jaipur to just the one night. And to be fair, I don't know how I feel about going back there next time around, either... even if I do really want to see Amber.
Jaipur, Rajasthan : January 24, 2011 - January 25, 2011
Have you ever been shocked by something you've witnessed? I mean really shocked? Take a moment to consider it; shocked to the point where you cannot even put words to your own emotions? Where, even if you did have those words, you wouldn't be able to put a voice to them because by doing so, you would be reliving the moment? Something so heinous that it haunts your waking hours and does worse to you once sleep finally does overtake you? If you can honestly answer no that this question, consider yourself very, very lucky - I envy you your innocence. And I'll be honest here - I am finding it very fucking difficult to write about this section of my trip, so it'll likely be short.
Leaving Agra (5:10am - yeck), while saddening to a degree, was also exciting because I would be starting my tour of Rajasthan, a place many of my friends spoke nothing but good things about. And my entry point into the state was the state capital,Jaipur, the Pink City. Called so because the original palatial area of the city is encased within a wall composed of pink stone, as are most of the buildings within said walls, with the exception of newer additions to the area and some of the temples and shrines.
On the train, the Ajmer Express, I met a guy from Spain (who I called the Spaniard) who was heading to Amber. We had talked a bit on the train. At the time we got off the train (9:30am), I was considering going with him, but got waylaid by two locals that wanted to "help" me find a hotel. The Spaniard was only in for the day, and wasn't taking a hotel, so I reluctantly went with the two locals, because I did need a hotel. We three went for chai and had a great conversation about many things; religion, the humanities and the connections we make in life to other people. It was a very interesting conversation, but I could sense it was steering me towards being inclined to trusting them. Fact is, I kind of did - they were very nice, without being "too" nice, you know? And the conversation was stimulating. In the end, I did go with them (free in their car) to the hotel their uncle owned. It was a little more than I would have liked to have paid (500 rupees) but it was a suite - seriously, a 5 star suite. I could have chosen a lesser room, but truth be told, I wanted a nice one to start my desert tour off with. And the shower was amazing! And to be truthful, and I hate myself for admitting it - but I wanted the air conditioner! LoL! It's seriously hot in the desert in the daytime.
After checking in and grabbing a quick shower, I headed out into the city, with the goal of losing myself in the back streets, so I could see the real Jaipur. And it was sublime! There is a very real difference between the India you see in the developed places that a tourist would frequent and the India you don't see, unless you go way off the beaten trail. The houses are nowhere near as nice looking on first glance, however when you take the time to really see them, they are more real that the modern homes. They look lived in, they show their years. They are full of history, charm - in short, there is so much to see, even on just one wall. The newer modern homes lack that lived-in look. They feel more like museums than homes to be honest. The are uni-color and while well manicured, they just are nowhere near as eye catching as the older hovels in the back alleys.
And I also got hit by a motorcycle here! LoL! Although, it did hurt like a bastard for an hour or so. You see, in India, they don't have traffic lights or signs. They don't even use their signal lights to turn corners. They honk. For everything they do in a vehicle - lane change, turn corners, etc. Well, this guy on the bike didn't, so I crossed the road, and Wham! He hits me, hard enough to knock me aside. And what does he do? He takes off, without so much as an "I'm sorry", or anything. Because, in India, when you cause an accident, you are at fault for causing pain, and that can get you beaten near to death apparently. I've heard stories of this happening all over the country. So, I understand why the guy took off, but come on... I'm a fucking tourist! Yeah, that's likely a good reason to split on second thought. Anyways, the back roads...
Here and there, kids played at being kids - a far cry from what I'd seen on my way to Agra. Here there seemed to be no work yards for them to be enslaved to - nothing to do all day long save for those things kids do; go to school, help their mothers with the chores and play. Oh those smiling little faces! So happy, so carefree, so ignorant of what the world could really be like. I wish I had have taken some photos, you know, but somewhere along the way I'd developed this unease with photographing people for the sake of having a photo. I have a big problem with shoving a camera in someone's life and taking a piece of it. And I'll be honest, this carried with me for my entire trip - although I did see and meet many people along the way that just didn't feel the same way (I'll really get into this in the Mumbai section).
Another thing that I found fascinating were the collection of farm livestock in these back roads. There were the usual assortment of cows, goats, pigs and chickens, all running the streets without a care in the world - save for moving away from cars and stupid white tourists named Joe who wanted to take their pictures! There were even monstrous boars here, rummaging through the assorted piles of refuse, looking for an easy meal. And I mean monstrous! Some of them looked to weigh more than 200 pounds!
Making my way through the back roads, I came at last to the gates of the Pink City, where there was a market and a temple dedicated to Hanuman, the monkey god. I walked those markets for hours, just savouring the various aromas - Jaipur is a spice lovers mecca! Every possible colour of curry is available here - I even bought 200g of the spiciestyellow curry powder I could find to bring home. I can't wait to get into my apartment and cook something with it - who's hungry? I make a killer Channa Masala! There were hundreds of shops, selling jewelry, blankets of all sorts, and the usual clothing - pasminas, sarees, etc. It was overwhelming to be blunt - the market road, the main strip in the Pink City, runs for miles. It took me over an hour to walk the length of it. But then, I was stopping quite a bit. I even met a guy who took me into his diamond shop, where he showed me how the workers polish and cut the stones. Very interesting and powered entirely by manpower. It, of course, was a snare to get me to buy jewelry to bring back to Canada, which I of course declined. I did however accept his offer of going rooftop to shoot some photos of the city and the Hawa Mahal (Palace of the Winds).
The Hawa Mahal is a rather interesting piece of architecture. It stands with a thousand windows, all facing the streets. From my understanding, in the old days when the Raja's ruled, the royal women were not allowed in public, so this palace was built for them, with the thousand coloured windows, so that they could at least look out on the city without being seen by the commoners. Kind of backward thinking behaviour to be sure, but it was what it was. And it worked for them. In either case, the building is simply magnificent!
It was here that I discovered that the guy who sold me the batteries at Agra Fort had slipped me a fake 500 rupee note. I went to buy my aunt a small elephant carved from alabaster from a vendor using said bill. I was told flat out it was a fake. The vendor even showed me how to tell it was not genuine in a couple different ways - very thoughtful of him! But what the hell was I going to do with that 500 rupee note now (you'll find out)?
Walking again through some back roads, on my way to see the Jantar Mantar, an observatory used to measure time, track stars, etc - much the same uses as other such devices the world over, I came across the scene that will now haunt me for the rest of my days. I don't even know if I want to write this stuff - it's brutal and a lot of you may be better off not to have read it. If you've a weak stomach, I urge you, no, I beg you, to skip down until you see the all clear text. And I know, right - it's like when someone says, "Don't look", but you do anyways. Seriously - don't.
WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT FOLLOWS
Last chance offered to scroll down - ample warning has been given. So, as I walked those streets the sharp, piercing sound of a dog in pain echoed off the walls of the buildings around me. And I don't mean the usual sound of a dog being kicked, I mean mortal pain. I don't deal well with that sort of thing, okay, I always tend to run over to see what I can do, for people and for animals. Call it the latent doctor in me, or if you won't, call it compassionate. Whatever. As I was nearing the source of the cry of the dog, other sounds starting becoming clear too, other dogs and the sound you would hear of you were to smash a watermelon full-force with a baseball bat. Yeah, you know what? I can't do this... suffice it to say, there were dozens of people armed with really big sticks beating the dogs, to death. And throwing their bodies into a pit, full of dead dogs on fire. Why? I was told because there were too many dogs and these were the worst of the lot. They needed to be destroyed as they were teaching other dogs bad things and they were killing other animals. Whatever - they're fucking wild dogs, rght? The Indians don't keep them as pets as a general rule, so they ALL run around, doing bad shit and eating other animals. If they were rabid, I could understand. But this? For no reason than you can't control the dog population in some other less violent way? Yeah, I was shocked. Yes I was horrified. Yes I still hear it all in the stillness of the night. And yes I do have pictures - for how much longer, I can't say. I'm really close to deleting them because I just don't want the reminder. I'm actually sickened right now. I've dreaded doing this entry - I've been trying to write it for four days or more and it just won't come out. This is the most I can say, this is the most I can do. You get the gist. Have fun sleeping with it. Seal clubbing is nothing to what I saw - abject cruelty, there's no other words to describe it.
GRAPHIC CONTENT ENDED
After that episode, I was sick. Physically sick - right there on the street. It's one thing to see that sort of thing in the newspapers or on the news, but it's something else entirely to see it first hand. And the worst thing of it all is that there was nothing I could do - I was forced away from it by the locals - likely because they don't want the story to get out. Too late fuckers, its out now. Still, as shitty as I felt, I came all that way and I was damned if I wasn't going to see Jantar Mantar.
I made my way there, stopping occasionally because, and I'll be truthful here, I couldn't control myself. Between the shock and the sickness, there were the tears. Lots of them. Alright, enough said... Jantar Mantar was amazing, no lie there. But my mind wasn't really on it, you know? I took photos, I walked around, but you know what? I didn't really see it. I have no clue as to it's layout or purpose, other than from looking at my pictures of it and from what I read in my Lonely Planet. I was so disconnected (shock) that I went back to my hotel, sat on he bathroom floor with the shower running on me (clothes and all) and just soaked myself. I can't tell you how long I sat there - but the hot water eventually ran out and I started to get cold, which was a dual blessing - it's hot in the desert and it snapped me out of my funk.
There isn't much more to tell to be honest. I changed, took my clothes to my patio and hung them to dry. Went to the internet cafe and bought a train ticket out of there to get me to Ajmer and Pushkar for the next day and then went back to the hotel to shut myself off from this place. I'm sure that Jaipur is amazing - I'm sure it has a lot to offer someone. But for me, it is a place of sorrow, a place of death. I took 2 diazepam tablets and slept until the next morning (6:00pm - 8:30am)...
And the next morning, I packed up my gear and left... yeah, I don't think I will go back there, Amber or not. Thankfully Pushkar was just what I needed to balance out and feel better about life; although, as you'll eventually read, it did take me a long, lonely time on the top of a mountain to quiet the echoes that I now hear only when I close my eyes...
Jaipur, Rajasthan : January 24, 2011 - January 25, 2011
Have you ever been shocked by something you've witnessed? I mean really shocked? Take a moment to consider it; shocked to the point where you cannot even put words to your own emotions? Where, even if you did have those words, you wouldn't be able to put a voice to them because by doing so, you would be reliving the moment? Something so heinous that it haunts your waking hours and does worse to you once sleep finally does overtake you? If you can honestly answer no that this question, consider yourself very, very lucky - I envy you your innocence. And I'll be honest here - I am finding it very fucking difficult to write about this section of my trip, so it'll likely be short.
Leaving Agra (5:10am - yeck), while saddening to a degree, was also exciting because I would be starting my tour of Rajasthan, a place many of my friends spoke nothing but good things about. And my entry point into the state was the state capital,Jaipur, the Pink City. Called so because the original palatial area of the city is encased within a wall composed of pink stone, as are most of the buildings within said walls, with the exception of newer additions to the area and some of the temples and shrines.
On the train, the Ajmer Express, I met a guy from Spain (who I called the Spaniard) who was heading to Amber. We had talked a bit on the train. At the time we got off the train (9:30am), I was considering going with him, but got waylaid by two locals that wanted to "help" me find a hotel. The Spaniard was only in for the day, and wasn't taking a hotel, so I reluctantly went with the two locals, because I did need a hotel. We three went for chai and had a great conversation about many things; religion, the humanities and the connections we make in life to other people. It was a very interesting conversation, but I could sense it was steering me towards being inclined to trusting them. Fact is, I kind of did - they were very nice, without being "too" nice, you know? And the conversation was stimulating. In the end, I did go with them (free in their car) to the hotel their uncle owned. It was a little more than I would have liked to have paid (500 rupees) but it was a suite - seriously, a 5 star suite. I could have chosen a lesser room, but truth be told, I wanted a nice one to start my desert tour off with. And the shower was amazing! And to be truthful, and I hate myself for admitting it - but I wanted the air conditioner! LoL! It's seriously hot in the desert in the daytime.
After checking in and grabbing a quick shower, I headed out into the city, with the goal of losing myself in the back streets, so I could see the real Jaipur. And it was sublime! There is a very real difference between the India you see in the developed places that a tourist would frequent and the India you don't see, unless you go way off the beaten trail. The houses are nowhere near as nice looking on first glance, however when you take the time to really see them, they are more real that the modern homes. They look lived in, they show their years. They are full of history, charm - in short, there is so much to see, even on just one wall. The newer modern homes lack that lived-in look. They feel more like museums than homes to be honest. The are uni-color and while well manicured, they just are nowhere near as eye catching as the older hovels in the back alleys.
And I also got hit by a motorcycle here! LoL! Although, it did hurt like a bastard for an hour or so. You see, in India, they don't have traffic lights or signs. They don't even use their signal lights to turn corners. They honk. For everything they do in a vehicle - lane change, turn corners, etc. Well, this guy on the bike didn't, so I crossed the road, and Wham! He hits me, hard enough to knock me aside. And what does he do? He takes off, without so much as an "I'm sorry", or anything. Because, in India, when you cause an accident, you are at fault for causing pain, and that can get you beaten near to death apparently. I've heard stories of this happening all over the country. So, I understand why the guy took off, but come on... I'm a fucking tourist! Yeah, that's likely a good reason to split on second thought. Anyways, the back roads...
Here and there, kids played at being kids - a far cry from what I'd seen on my way to Agra. Here there seemed to be no work yards for them to be enslaved to - nothing to do all day long save for those things kids do; go to school, help their mothers with the chores and play. Oh those smiling little faces! So happy, so carefree, so ignorant of what the world could really be like. I wish I had have taken some photos, you know, but somewhere along the way I'd developed this unease with photographing people for the sake of having a photo. I have a big problem with shoving a camera in someone's life and taking a piece of it. And I'll be honest, this carried with me for my entire trip - although I did see and meet many people along the way that just didn't feel the same way (I'll really get into this in the Mumbai section).
Another thing that I found fascinating were the collection of farm livestock in these back roads. There were the usual assortment of cows, goats, pigs and chickens, all running the streets without a care in the world - save for moving away from cars and stupid white tourists named Joe who wanted to take their pictures! There were even monstrous boars here, rummaging through the assorted piles of refuse, looking for an easy meal. And I mean monstrous! Some of them looked to weigh more than 200 pounds!
Making my way through the back roads, I came at last to the gates of the Pink City, where there was a market and a temple dedicated to Hanuman, the monkey god. I walked those markets for hours, just savouring the various aromas - Jaipur is a spice lovers mecca! Every possible colour of curry is available here - I even bought 200g of the spiciestyellow curry powder I could find to bring home. I can't wait to get into my apartment and cook something with it - who's hungry? I make a killer Channa Masala! There were hundreds of shops, selling jewelry, blankets of all sorts, and the usual clothing - pasminas, sarees, etc. It was overwhelming to be blunt - the market road, the main strip in the Pink City, runs for miles. It took me over an hour to walk the length of it. But then, I was stopping quite a bit. I even met a guy who took me into his diamond shop, where he showed me how the workers polish and cut the stones. Very interesting and powered entirely by manpower. It, of course, was a snare to get me to buy jewelry to bring back to Canada, which I of course declined. I did however accept his offer of going rooftop to shoot some photos of the city and the Hawa Mahal (Palace of the Winds).
The Hawa Mahal is a rather interesting piece of architecture. It stands with a thousand windows, all facing the streets. From my understanding, in the old days when the Raja's ruled, the royal women were not allowed in public, so this palace was built for them, with the thousand coloured windows, so that they could at least look out on the city without being seen by the commoners. Kind of backward thinking behaviour to be sure, but it was what it was. And it worked for them. In either case, the building is simply magnificent!
It was here that I discovered that the guy who sold me the batteries at Agra Fort had slipped me a fake 500 rupee note. I went to buy my aunt a small elephant carved from alabaster from a vendor using said bill. I was told flat out it was a fake. The vendor even showed me how to tell it was not genuine in a couple different ways - very thoughtful of him! But what the hell was I going to do with that 500 rupee note now (you'll find out)?
Walking again through some back roads, on my way to see the Jantar Mantar, an observatory used to measure time, track stars, etc - much the same uses as other such devices the world over, I came across the scene that will now haunt me for the rest of my days. I don't even know if I want to write this stuff - it's brutal and a lot of you may be better off not to have read it. If you've a weak stomach, I urge you, no, I beg you, to skip down until you see the all clear text. And I know, right - it's like when someone says, "Don't look", but you do anyways. Seriously - don't.
WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT FOLLOWS
Last chance offered to scroll down - ample warning has been given. So, as I walked those streets the sharp, piercing sound of a dog in pain echoed off the walls of the buildings around me. And I don't mean the usual sound of a dog being kicked, I mean mortal pain. I don't deal well with that sort of thing, okay, I always tend to run over to see what I can do, for people and for animals. Call it the latent doctor in me, or if you won't, call it compassionate. Whatever. As I was nearing the source of the cry of the dog, other sounds starting becoming clear too, other dogs and the sound you would hear of you were to smash a watermelon full-force with a baseball bat. Yeah, you know what? I can't do this... suffice it to say, there were dozens of people armed with really big sticks beating the dogs, to death. And throwing their bodies into a pit, full of dead dogs on fire. Why? I was told because there were too many dogs and these were the worst of the lot. They needed to be destroyed as they were teaching other dogs bad things and they were killing other animals. Whatever - they're fucking wild dogs, rght? The Indians don't keep them as pets as a general rule, so they ALL run around, doing bad shit and eating other animals. If they were rabid, I could understand. But this? For no reason than you can't control the dog population in some other less violent way? Yeah, I was shocked. Yes I was horrified. Yes I still hear it all in the stillness of the night. And yes I do have pictures - for how much longer, I can't say. I'm really close to deleting them because I just don't want the reminder. I'm actually sickened right now. I've dreaded doing this entry - I've been trying to write it for four days or more and it just won't come out. This is the most I can say, this is the most I can do. You get the gist. Have fun sleeping with it. Seal clubbing is nothing to what I saw - abject cruelty, there's no other words to describe it.
GRAPHIC CONTENT ENDED
After that episode, I was sick. Physically sick - right there on the street. It's one thing to see that sort of thing in the newspapers or on the news, but it's something else entirely to see it first hand. And the worst thing of it all is that there was nothing I could do - I was forced away from it by the locals - likely because they don't want the story to get out. Too late fuckers, its out now. Still, as shitty as I felt, I came all that way and I was damned if I wasn't going to see Jantar Mantar.
I made my way there, stopping occasionally because, and I'll be truthful here, I couldn't control myself. Between the shock and the sickness, there were the tears. Lots of them. Alright, enough said... Jantar Mantar was amazing, no lie there. But my mind wasn't really on it, you know? I took photos, I walked around, but you know what? I didn't really see it. I have no clue as to it's layout or purpose, other than from looking at my pictures of it and from what I read in my Lonely Planet. I was so disconnected (shock) that I went back to my hotel, sat on he bathroom floor with the shower running on me (clothes and all) and just soaked myself. I can't tell you how long I sat there - but the hot water eventually ran out and I started to get cold, which was a dual blessing - it's hot in the desert and it snapped me out of my funk.
There isn't much more to tell to be honest. I changed, took my clothes to my patio and hung them to dry. Went to the internet cafe and bought a train ticket out of there to get me to Ajmer and Pushkar for the next day and then went back to the hotel to shut myself off from this place. I'm sure that Jaipur is amazing - I'm sure it has a lot to offer someone. But for me, it is a place of sorrow, a place of death. I took 2 diazepam tablets and slept until the next morning (6:00pm - 8:30am)...
And the next morning, I packed up my gear and left... yeah, I don't think I will go back there, Amber or not. Thankfully Pushkar was just what I needed to balance out and feel better about life; although, as you'll eventually read, it did take me a long, lonely time on the top of a mountain to quiet the echoes that I now hear only when I close my eyes...
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