Tag Archives: Jaipur

Our adopted rickshaw wallah, Muktar, is waiting for us this morning and we drive out to Jaigarh Fort which sits on the hilltop above Amber.  This huge and austere fortress has commanding views of the surrounding area towards Jaipur and the < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
Water Palace in one direction and over the hills around Amber to the vast plains that stretch out into the distance beyond.  As we stand looking down on the palace buildings of Amber and admiring the vista we can see the monsoon rain clouds rolling towards us.  We are in for a downpour.  We acquire an unsolicited ‘guide’ (who is actually a uniformed palace guard) as we make our way round, which is fortunate since the palace quarters are a maze of courtyards linked by dark, narrow corridors and we would never have seen everything on our own.  Andy chunters all the way round as a result;  he hates having people latching on uninvited and having to pay for the privilege, even if it is only a few rupees.  There is a little puppet theatre consisting of a puppeteer and a musician who put on, for a donation, a very short, but amusing performance involving four puppets – a belly dancer, two acrobats and a snake charmer – the whole thing can’t have lasted more than three or four minutes.  We trot round what by now is starting to become a familiar Moghul palace layout – some prettily decorated buildings not quite as impressive as some we have seen.  There is a beautiful formal courtyard garden with fountains (not working) though with two tall arches framing the mountain view beyond.  Once through the palace buildings our unofficial ‘guide’ expects a tip despite the signs about the place stating that tipping is not allowed and after paying him a small sum we make our way to look at the Jaya Vana, the world’s largest wheeled cannon, which also has the distinction of never having been fired in anger.  It is certainly enormous.  Another man tries to insinuate himself  as our guide to reel off information that is openly on displayed alongside the cannon.  We give him short shrift. 

The monsoon clouds we spied earlier have caught up with us and we, and several other people. are forced to take shelter under an arched gateway.  It’s only a short downpour but there seems to be an amazing amount of run off as a result and when we get back to Jaipur there is quite a bit of localised flooding.  Interestingly, Indians don’t seem to bother with rain capes or umbrellas;  they either brave the rain or take shelter and wait for it to pass. 

We have rather miscalculated our itinerary not realising that most monuments close at 4.30pm and it is already 3.30pm when we find a restaurant to have lunch.  So we have to forgo the Hawah Mahal (Palace of the Winds) and the Temple of the Sun God and instead decide to visit the jewellery bazaar after lunch.  At least that is the intention, but Muktar has other ideas.  The bazaars are not a good place to buy jewellery apparently;  he knows somewhere that is much better value and takes us to a small shop up some back alley that we would never have found in a thousand years if left to our own devices.  We cynically, and perhaps somewhat uncharitably, assume that it is somewhere he gets commission.  It turns out to be a good place though after a little haggling we return to the hotel with two bracelets (for me) and a ring (for Andy).

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No more walking for us, at least not while we are in Jaipur.  Jaipur is much better viewed from the back of an auto-rickshaw – far less tiring and it doesn’t seem quite so filthy.  So we hire Muktar Hussein and his rickshaw at 400 rupees (£5) for about five hours.  On our agenda are the famed < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
Pink City, City Palace and Amber.

The Pink City is surrounded by a crenulated wall which was painted pink in 1876 by Maharaja Ram Singh in honour of a visit by the then Prince of Wales.  Originally build in 1727 by Jai Singh II it follows a grid layout with wide intersecting boulevards cutting swathes through the city dividing it into nine artisanal areas.  There are 100s of shops in the vibrant bazaars that line the boulevards;  all painted pink and carrying black Hindi script on their fascias which gives the old city a very uniform appearance.  It’s teeming with people and the traffic is horrendous – the usual mayhem  of rickshaws, mopeds, cycles, horse and carts and cows all vying for position as they weave in and out of any available space.

In the heart of the Pink City is City Palace, the official residence of the current Maharaja and home to the Maharaja Sawai Man Singh II Museum.  Like much of the old city it is painted pink with contrasting white highlights.  It is a vast complex of beautifully preserved buildings and courtyards, fabulously decorated ceilings and delicate frescos.  Entering through the Virendra Pol the first building to greet you is the lovely Mubarak Mahal (Welcome Palace) a blend of Rajasthani, Moghul and British architecture which was designated the world’s most beautiful building of the twentieth century by some august body, the name of which I forget.  An armoury is housed in the former quarters of the Maharani, a grand building with the sumptiously decorated ceilings.  The Diwan-i-Khas is a cool, open-sided marble pavilion which houses two enormous matching silver vessels that are in the Guiness Book of Records as the largest in the world.  A group of women in vibrant, richly decorated saris sit amongst the pillars applying intricate henna patterns to each other’s hands.  In the Pitnam Niwas Chowk courtyard four ornately painted gates represent spring, summer, autumn and monsoon.  Two have been lovingly restored and a third is work-in-progress.  There are several shops around the palace selling clothes, trinkets, souvenirs and jewellery and we have been advised by our driver that they are over-priced, no doubt to discourage us from making any purchases before he has a chance to take us to some factory shop where he will earn a commission.

We lunch at Ganesh, a tiny restaurant situated on top of the city wall which, despite the suspect interior, serves really tasty food.  We take a short stroll along Bapu Bazaar which specialises in clothes and shoes, but with shopkeepers continually hassling us (Indian shoppers don’t get the same treatment) it’s impossible to browse in peace.  So we retreat back to the rickshaw and head off to the Amber Fort.

Amber is situated in green hills about 11 km outside Jaipur.   Part fort, part palace, it’s faded pink walls loom high above us sitting on a rugged outcrop and it’s quite a climb to the entrance particularly in the heat.  The outer fortifications which encircle this fortress palace  and the town that nestles under its walls, hug the contours of the surrounding hills.  Once the ancient capital of Jaipur state, it is in remarkably good condition considering it dates back to 1592.  Built by Maharaja Man Singh and later extended, it is a labyrinthine palace with some striking buildings:  the sandstone and marble Diwan-i-Am pavilion which remarkably wasn’t sacked by the invading Moghuls;  the small and intricately carved marble Sila temple; the exquisite Ganesh Pol (gate) decorate with a delicate floral mural looking as fresh as the day it was first painted (almost);  the oh-so-over-the-top Jai Mundir with its mirror-encrusted facade and opposite across a formal courtyard garden the Sukh Niwas (Hall of Pleasure).  The buildings of the women’s harem, by contrast, seem rather plain and uninspiring.

As anticipated Muktar’s suggests we might like to visit a textile factory shop specialising in block printed fabrics and since he will earn a commission for taking us, we agree to go along.   After all we might see something we like.  But after looking at several bedspreads and wall hangings of rather indifferent quality we extricate ourselves and return to the hotel. 

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The Hotel Karni Niwas is a tidy place but a tad impersonal.  Our room is one of several off a long first floor terrace which overlooks a pleasant garden that none seems to use and which is spoilt only by an obligatory pile of rubbish in one corner – builders’ rubble fortunately;  only an eyesore and not a health hazard.  There is no dining room, but amazingly there is room service and breakfast – and dinner too if you want it – is served on the terrace outside our room.  Importantly it’s quiet, a big plus in this country.  There is even hot water, but it’s difficult to distinguish it from the cold, the temperature of both is more or less the same.  But who needs hot water in this heat?  There are some monkeys on a flat roof opposite finding the flies just as irritating as we do.

We go for a walk to orientate ourselves with the intention of visiting the < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /?>
Pink City.  What a mistake!  We manage to get completely lost – no street signs make map reading a nightmare.  India cities are not for exploring on foot;  pavements exist not for walking on, but for sleeping, sitting and parking and using as a toilet.  Any pavement that is available for walking on is usually broken, filthy or covered in rubbish or piles of rubble.  Indian is definitely best experienced from inside a rickshaw or even better, an air conditioned car.

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