India
Udaipur
Early morning light shines through stained glass windows to illuminate the shimmering Peacock Courtyard below: Rajasthani beauty in the 16-century royal palace of Udaipur.
A spice seller's bright and colorful wares are displayed with the skills of a painter: Rajasthani artistry at the Jaipur bazaar.
The walls of a mud hut are decorated with simple hand-drawn designs: Rajasthani creativity in the tiny village of Peharsar.
Whether ancient or modern, the art and architecture of this "land of kings" draw the eye and touch the heart.
Rajasthan, created at India's independence in 1947, comprises 22 former princely states that were ruled for hundreds of years by maharajahs. Their legacy lives on in the massive forts and palaces that leave a visitor awestruck - and disturbed by the overwhelming wealth of the few in a land where so many live in grinding poverty.
Udaipur
Early morning light shines through stained glass windows to illuminate the shimmering Peacock Courtyard below: Rajasthani beauty in the 16-century royal palace of Udaipur.
A spice seller's bright and colorful wares are displayed with the skills of a painter: Rajasthani artistry at the Jaipur bazaar.
The walls of a mud hut are decorated with simple hand-drawn designs: Rajasthani creativity in the tiny village of Peharsar.
Whether ancient or modern, the art and architecture of this "land of kings" draw the eye and touch the heart.
Rajasthan, created at India's independence in 1947, comprises 22 former princely states that were ruled for hundreds of years by maharajahs. Their legacy lives on in the massive forts and palaces that leave a visitor awestruck - and disturbed by the overwhelming wealth of the few in a land where so many live in grinding poverty.
"The gap between rich and poor is so wide, too wide, in India," says Mayur Hada, the descendent of a Rajput family that once ruled Bundi in the southeastern part of the state. But his pride in his ancestry and country is evident as he talks about history, cultural and religious traditions.
The 17th-century Garh Palace in his hometown of Bundi is still owned by a cousin, the son of the last maharajah, Major Bahadur Singhji Bahadur, who was an aide-de-camp to Lord Louis Mountbatten. Until two years ago, it was closed but now tourists can enter through the massive Hati Pol, or elephant gate, to explore the deserted rooms where the white marble throne and beautiful frescos of the Chitrashala, or picture gallery, are the only reminders of a glorious past. Rudyard Kipling, who stayed for a time at Bundi's summer palace, Sukh Mahal, on the outskirts of the town is said to have described the Garh Palace as the work of "goblins, not of men." That's easy to believe, looking at the massive, multi-layered structure that appears to hang suspended from the hillside.
The 17th-century Garh Palace in his hometown of Bundi is still owned by a cousin, the son of the last maharajah, Major Bahadur Singhji Bahadur, who was an aide-de-camp to Lord Louis Mountbatten. Until two years ago, it was closed but now tourists can enter through the massive Hati Pol, or elephant gate, to explore the deserted rooms where the white marble throne and beautiful frescos of the Chitrashala, or picture gallery, are the only reminders of a glorious past. Rudyard Kipling, who stayed for a time at Bundi's summer palace, Sukh Mahal, on the outskirts of the town is said to have described the Garh Palace as the work of "goblins, not of men." That's easy to believe, looking at the massive, multi-layered structure that appears to hang suspended from the hillside.
From the Garh's terraces - and from the 15th-century Star Fort above it - there is a marvellous view of the busy, colorful town nestled in a narrow valley protected by the Aravalli hills. Here is the real life of today's Rajasthan: exhilarating, exhausting, chaotic, crowded, brimming with vitality. As with every town in the region, it is here in the streets and bazaars that the joy of incredible India is found.
Hada seems to know everyone in town and, as we sit crosslegged at a jewellery shop, he introduces boyhood friends, family members, the son of the woman who ran his school and taught him English. Later, during a short stroll, I chat with the chilli wallah (shopkeeper), resist the pleas of women selling bangles, take photos of boys and girls who follow me around the bazaar: "One photo, please. One photo." They are charming, handsome children, delighted by the images on my digital camera.
It's like this every place we visit in what is often described as the most exotic area of India. The haunting beauty of the desert landscape is enchanting, the life of the crowded bazaars is enlivening, the warmth of the people endearing.
Near Bikaner, we travel a single-track road through a sandstorm to reach the camel fair at Katariasar. But for the cars and buses parked nearby, this could be the scene of a medieval gathering of desert people. Camels are decorated with blankets, bells and garlands, admired by the men and boys of the area as they await the judges who will choose the best-dressed dromedary. The women, beautifully attired in the bright-coloured saris and exquisite gold jewellery typical of Rajasthan, gather for another event in a nearby wedding tent to await bride and groom.
It's like this every place we visit in what is often described as the most exotic area of India. The haunting beauty of the desert landscape is enchanting, the life of the crowded bazaars is enlivening, the warmth of the people endearing.
Near Bikaner, we travel a single-track road through a sandstorm to reach the camel fair at Katariasar. But for the cars and buses parked nearby, this could be the scene of a medieval gathering of desert people. Camels are decorated with blankets, bells and garlands, admired by the men and boys of the area as they await the judges who will choose the best-dressed dromedary. The women, beautifully attired in the bright-coloured saris and exquisite gold jewellery typical of Rajasthan, gather for another event in a nearby wedding tent to await bride and groom.
The bridal couple is English, being married in a Hindu ceremony that is popular with foreigners at such festive events. The young groom arrives on a camel, rather than the traditional white horse; the bride, resplendent in crimson, looks a tad more relaxed than her prospective husband. Throughout the ceremony, there is much laughter and chatter - and a good deal of shouting on the part of security officials trying to control the crowd - as the media circle the couple whose photos will be prominently displayed in the next day's papers.
I, too, appear to be a major tourist attraction: Women and children smile for their photos, men and boys chat in a bid to practise their English: "Hello. What is your name? What is your country? Do you like India?" Some just stand and stare in amazement at my pale Celtic skin.
In Mandawa, although I am the only tourist in sight, there is no fuss. The local people merely nod and smile - or ignore me. It is a small, dusty town that was once a prosperous stop on the Silk Road and home to wealthy merchants who traded not just in silk and camels and jewels, but in opium. In towns along the fabled trading route, they built beautifully designed and decorated mansions, known as havelis.
I, too, appear to be a major tourist attraction: Women and children smile for their photos, men and boys chat in a bid to practise their English: "Hello. What is your name? What is your country? Do you like India?" Some just stand and stare in amazement at my pale Celtic skin.
In Mandawa, although I am the only tourist in sight, there is no fuss. The local people merely nod and smile - or ignore me. It is a small, dusty town that was once a prosperous stop on the Silk Road and home to wealthy merchants who traded not just in silk and camels and jewels, but in opium. In towns along the fabled trading route, they built beautifully designed and decorated mansions, known as havelis.
Sadly, most are now abandoned and have fallen into disrepair, though some are being restored, particularly in nearby Nawalgarh. In Mandawa, there are more than 30 deserted havelis and, though the glory days are gone, it is easy to imagine how splendid the town must have been many years ago. Now the mansions, still privately owned by those who have moved on to Mumbai or Calcutta, are left in the hands of caretakers.
But there is nothing they can do with the properties. "They can't sell them because they don't have the papers," says Hanif Lilgar, who is our guide for the day. "They can't even convert them to hotels because they don't have the papers. But the owners can't drag them out because they have been living here for more than 50 years (since Indian independence)."
The shame is that "the owners are letting the havelis go to waste" and a marvellous part of Rajasthan's heritage is gradually being lost.
But there is nothing they can do with the properties. "They can't sell them because they don't have the papers," says Hanif Lilgar, who is our guide for the day. "They can't even convert them to hotels because they don't have the papers. But the owners can't drag them out because they have been living here for more than 50 years (since Indian independence)."
The shame is that "the owners are letting the havelis go to waste" and a marvellous part of Rajasthan's heritage is gradually being lost.
One Mandawa haveli, however, has been restored at considerable cost by owner Dinesh Dhabhai and is now a small hotel with large, comfortable rooms that overlook a quiet courtyard away from the hustle and bustle of the main street. From the rooftop restaurant, there is a lovely view out over the town and, on Jan. 14, hundreds of kites - bright blue, yellow, red, or Darth Vader black - being flown during the annual festival that marks the beginning of a new and auspicious month on the Hindu calendar.
Hotel staffers Ram Prasad Gujar and Madan Adhikari are among the excited townspeople, young and old, who stage kite battles in the sky over the town. Although it is Saturday, a school day, the children "have given themselves a holiday," explains Hada.
Hotel staffers Ram Prasad Gujar and Madan Adhikari are among the excited townspeople, young and old, who stage kite battles in the sky over the town. Although it is Saturday, a school day, the children "have given themselves a holiday," explains Hada.
Gujar takes time out to serve my breakfast while Adhikari insists I take my turn with the big spindle to which several metres of kite string are attached. When Hada joins us, he, too, tries his hand at flying a kite, somewhat less successfully than the other two young men. During this "happening," it occurs to me to ask about the birds. What happens to them on a day when the air is crowded with inanimate traffic? The answer: Some of them don't make it through the day. "It is a day of martyrdom for the birds," says Hada with a wicked grin.
In the shadow of the small, splendid fortified city of Jaisalmer, there is a different style of haveli, decorated with exquisitely carved sandstone. Of the five that stand in a row on a narrow "new town" street, three are owned by the government and two are still privately owned; in one there is a antique shop that is a treasure trove of Indian artifacts, a
In the shadow of the small, splendid fortified city of Jaisalmer, there is a different style of haveli, decorated with exquisitely carved sandstone. Of the five that stand in a row on a narrow "new town" street, three are owned by the government and two are still privately owned; in one there is a antique shop that is a treasure trove of Indian artifacts, a
veritable "Ali Baba's cave," says Satish Marissa, whose family has lived within the walled city for generations. Built in the 19th century, these havelis have entrances high above the street to prevent sand from blowing into the home, and are distinguished by their jharokhas, or balconies, and jails, or latticed stone screens - designed so the women of the house could see the passing parade without being seen themselves.
Just outside the palace walls is the main shopping area, leading to the crowded and colorful area around the Shree Jagdish Temple, a perfect place to sit to watch the life of the town, and to the ghats (steps) by the lake where some of the local people bathe and do their laundry. Later, as the day draws to a close, a rooftop dining room will provide a magical evening as the lights come on in the town and fireworks light up the sky to celebrate a nearby wedding.
At first glance, the fort, or inner, city is a maze of narrow lanes (no cars here), almost all with an array of tourist shops. It is a fascinating place to wander for a few hours, though, the artistry of its people displayed in the bright colors and beautiful designs of saris, kurthas (knee-length shirts worn by men), gold jewellery, wall hangings, wood carvings, lovely silk-covered notebooks of rice or banana paper. There is no "just browsing" custom here: "Sit, be comfortable, will you have some tea? You are a guest," is the usual way of doing business. And the shopkeeper will show you virtually everything available. Just remember, it's hard to leave without buying. If you don't go into the shop, there's humor along with the pleas to do so: "You said you'd come into my shop. You're not shopping? You're just walking? Walking is good for you, but it's not good for me," says one smiling young entrepreneur.
If you need a break - and that's a necessity in a nation when sensory overload is a daily occurence - climb to the battlements of the fort where it's possible to sit quietly to enjoy the view of the so-called golden city (thanks to the soft sandstone color that glows under the sun).
Just outside the palace walls is the main shopping area, leading to the crowded and colorful area around the Shree Jagdish Temple, a perfect place to sit to watch the life of the town, and to the ghats (steps) by the lake where some of the local people bathe and do their laundry. Later, as the day draws to a close, a rooftop dining room will provide a magical evening as the lights come on in the town and fireworks light up the sky to celebrate a nearby wedding.
At first glance, the fort, or inner, city is a maze of narrow lanes (no cars here), almost all with an array of tourist shops. It is a fascinating place to wander for a few hours, though, the artistry of its people displayed in the bright colors and beautiful designs of saris, kurthas (knee-length shirts worn by men), gold jewellery, wall hangings, wood carvings, lovely silk-covered notebooks of rice or banana paper. There is no "just browsing" custom here: "Sit, be comfortable, will you have some tea? You are a guest," is the usual way of doing business. And the shopkeeper will show you virtually everything available. Just remember, it's hard to leave without buying. If you don't go into the shop, there's humor along with the pleas to do so: "You said you'd come into my shop. You're not shopping? You're just walking? Walking is good for you, but it's not good for me," says one smiling young entrepreneur.
If you need a break - and that's a necessity in a nation when sensory overload is a daily occurence - climb to the battlements of the fort where it's possible to sit quietly to enjoy the view of the so-called golden city (thanks to the soft sandstone color that glows under the sun).
White City
Leaving the golden city, we head for the "white city" of Udaipur, leaving behind the open spaces of the desert for what the Lonely Planet guide describes "as a cool oasis in the dry heart of Rajasthan." The shimmering white buildings of the city, dominated by the City Palace of the maharanas of then Mewar, are reflected in the lovely Pichola Lake. The picturesque location was chosen by Maharajah Udai Singh II in the 16 century as his capital after a move from nearby Chittorgarh; over 300 years, the royal palace expanded to satisfy the tastes of his successors, whether for marble, glass, paintings, ceramics, gold or gardens. There are some stunningly beautiful rooms here - in the men's section (the women's quarters were much more austere) - with a remarkable collection of miniatures, beautiful mirror work, gold, and stained glass designed to take advantage of the full effect of the sun, especially the early morning rays that brighten the Peacock Courtyard. Electric lighting, the first in the area, was installed here in the early 20th by the maharana (a title equivalent to that of maharajah) who also installed an elevator for his personal use after he contracted polio and needed to use a wheelchair.
Just outside the palace walls is the main shopping area, leading to the crowded and colorful area around the Shree Jagdish Temple, a perfect place to sit to watch the life of the town, and to the ghats (steps) by the lake where some of the local people bathe and do their laundry. Later, as the day draws to a close, a rooftop dining room will provide a magical evening as the lights come on in the town and fireworks light up the sky to celebrate a nearby wedding.
Leaving the golden city, we head for the "white city" of Udaipur, leaving behind the open spaces of the desert for what the Lonely Planet guide describes "as a cool oasis in the dry heart of Rajasthan." The shimmering white buildings of the city, dominated by the City Palace of the maharanas of then Mewar, are reflected in the lovely Pichola Lake. The picturesque location was chosen by Maharajah Udai Singh II in the 16 century as his capital after a move from nearby Chittorgarh; over 300 years, the royal palace expanded to satisfy the tastes of his successors, whether for marble, glass, paintings, ceramics, gold or gardens. There are some stunningly beautiful rooms here - in the men's section (the women's quarters were much more austere) - with a remarkable collection of miniatures, beautiful mirror work, gold, and stained glass designed to take advantage of the full effect of the sun, especially the early morning rays that brighten the Peacock Courtyard. Electric lighting, the first in the area, was installed here in the early 20th by the maharana (a title equivalent to that of maharajah) who also installed an elevator for his personal use after he contracted polio and needed to use a wheelchair.
Just outside the palace walls is the main shopping area, leading to the crowded and colorful area around the Shree Jagdish Temple, a perfect place to sit to watch the life of the town, and to the ghats (steps) by the lake where some of the local people bathe and do their laundry. Later, as the day draws to a close, a rooftop dining room will provide a magical evening as the lights come on in the town and fireworks light up the sky to celebrate a nearby wedding.
There's a different kind of magic in Jaipur, the "pink city" so-called because of the pink sandstone used in its construction - or, some say, pink paint (it's more a soft rose, actually) used to brighten it up for the visit of Prince Albert in 1876. It looks like pink sandstone to me. Its spectacular Hawa Mahal, or Palace of the Winds, is the city's most distinctive landmark, though it is actually little more than a facade, its honeycombed windows designed to enable the women of the household to watch the everyday life on the street below and to provide the perfect view of parades and festivals. Nearby is the City Palace, the outer wall of which was built in the 17th century by Marharaja Jai Singh, a famous warrior and astronomer. TIn the museum, there is a particularly good collection of dresses and costumes worn by members of the royal family. The former maharajah stills lives in luxury in part of the palace; he strolls across the grounds the day we visit and, but for Hada, I would have thought he was just another employee in slacks, jacket and an open-necked shirt.
Across from the City Palace is the incredible Jantar Mantar, or observatory, that Jai Singh began in 1728. Of the five observatories he built in India, this is the largest and best preserved. It is situated in lovely grounds with a most fascinating collection of sculptures, each with a specific purpose - to measure postions of the stars, altitudes, or calculate eclipses. The 30-metre high sundial casts a shadow that records the time - to the minute (probably the second); our guide demonstrated!
After soaking up the history and ancient culture of Jaipur, the modern delights of the Johari Bazaar are not to be missed. An amazing assortment of foods, clothing, shoes, utensils, electronic gadgets, carvings, fabrics; it's all here, plus the traffic sideshow - camel carts, bullock carts, auto rickshaws, cycle rickshaws, bicycles, scooters (often carrying a family of four or five, with the baby at the front) and, of course, pedestrians (there's not enough room for everyone on the sidewalks). Marvellous chaos.
Our hotel faces onto the chaos. It's bound to be noisy, I think, but I'm wrong. It's an oasis of peace, a beautiful haveli set in a lovely garden. I feel guilty because I can escape the crowd and the noise; I feel relieved because I can escape the crowd and the noise. I order a beer and sit on the rooftop terrace to watch the sun set. Soon I am ready to return to the lively bazaar, the noise and dust, the scent of spices, sweets and savouries, the lovely smiles of the people of Jaiphur.
For more information about Rajasthan and tours there, go to Intrepid Travel or call 1-300-360-887; try the official Rajasthan website or the official Indian website www.incredibleindia.org.
Our hotel faces onto the chaos. It's bound to be noisy, I think, but I'm wrong. It's an oasis of peace, a beautiful haveli set in a lovely garden. I feel guilty because I can escape the crowd and the noise; I feel relieved because I can escape the crowd and the noise. I order a beer and sit on the rooftop terrace to watch the sun set. Soon I am ready to return to the lively bazaar, the noise and dust, the scent of spices, sweets and savouries, the lovely smiles of the people of Jaiphur.
For more information about Rajasthan and tours there, go to Intrepid Travel or call 1-300-360-887; try the official Rajasthan website or the official Indian website www.incredibleindia.org.