The Pearl Palace in Jaipur is the ultimate backpackers dream. $4 a night each (yes, we decided to splash the cash) for a room with two double beds and extremely conveniently for me (considering the champions league semi finals) a huge TV. Our first night there washed over us in an awesome wave.
The ‘Pink City’ (so called because the buildings are…I won’t insult your intelligence) was a more orderly market place than Delhi. It shows just how immune Hannah and I have become to the street life that these ‘orderly’ roads still included camels, goats, cows, elephants, stray dogs , as well as you’re more traditional modes of accelerator activated transport.
A great view of the place was offered to us by a man who ran a rooftop café. The climb up the iron spiraling staircase did reveal a rooftop, but no café, or even railings around the side. Amid visions of being dangled over the edge I faked a bout of vertigo and stayed clinging to the edge...what a hero.
The next day was the highlight at the ‘monkey palace’. We walked really amongst the permanent residence…namely hundreds of monkeys, and watched as they did some ‘top bombing’ into a pool.
Hannah also got to experience the joys of being a western girl in India. Firstly, on our climb down to the palace where a group of kids, under the pretense of shaking both our hands, left me to stole on oblivious whilst grabbing some cheeky cheek time with Han.
Secondly, by one of the men swimming in the holy water of the palace (wet hugs) and thirdly by our impromptu tour guide/holy pool supervisor/ 25 year old who claimed to have a child who was a doctor 9something lost in translation or a bare faced liar me thinks) who continuously wanted Han to kiss him on the cheek and whose friend, when photos were taken, grabbed a handful of breast (pictorial evidence). In between times I was convinced a holy man who gave us Bhindi spots was trying to hypnotise me through the medium of song…I was quite paranoid apparently.
Some may ask, where was my protective arm? But in my defense, just prior to ‘boobgate’ our ‘guide’ had been telling me about his black belt credentials and asking whether I too was a fighter. Do know what? I’m not, but he still insisted on simulating forearm punches into my midriff.
So the understanding, however unspoken, was set. In return for not being decapitated in front of some monkeys his friend would be completely inappropriate on Polaroid. Don’t judge until you’re there.
Han really got into the spirit of tings on the climb down the winding hill pass…having a dump on the side of the hill (watched my a chubby sand bemused school boy wandering what the hell western women get up to), which a stray dog dutifully came along and started tucking in to. Thankfully no pictorial evidence is available…welcome to India folks!
We saw elephants the next day, but in truth it was the Pearl Palace, it’s legendry owner Mr Singh (Mr Singh Senior equally legendry for repeatedly telling me some white people are ugly but that I was beautiful…think he had cataracts) and the fellow travelers from Britain, American, France and Singapore we met there that made our Jaipur experience and was the turning point for our Indian travels. If you type pearl palace into t’internet you’ll see our crew in the gallery section. I look quite camp and we all discussed this at length…but then I guess I just am. You’ll also see Mr Singh in one of his 56 turbans (one to match every shirt…the crazy, vain Sikh).
Now even further west in Jodhpor, going on a two day camel trek with some cool Spanish, American and Dutch cats. Until after that, Hope you’re all well…we definitely are.
James and Hannah
