Day 74 - 14 October 2009: Highway entertainment on way to Varanasi

Today is a drive day towards Varanasi. On the road, we see a dump yard, proving that rubbish sometimes collected here. We also see another turned up truck left at the side of the road, and more of the chassis only trucks on their journey towards their completion.

turbo charged Indian police car

We stop to bush camp at a petrol station. I was going to sleep on the truck roof again, but the humidity leaves my roll mat drenched and I put up my tent in the dark.

After settling down to sleep, a party of some sort seems to have started up down the road. Unlike many a curry house veteran, I have always enjoyed Indian music and I get up to have a look. I discover an audience of about two hundred men and children watching some all singing and dancing women and a male compère in some colourful make-up on a stage under a hastily constructed pavilion. However, upon my arrival I become the spectacle for both the audience and the dancing girls. I am greeted with warmth, though not without some bafflement I suspect. I am escorted to a newly vacated chair to enjoy the show. Behind me is a policeman who says he will look after me if I give him some rupees. I never thought I would say no to someone holding a pump action shotgun asking for money, but this has been an eye opening journey and that is what I do. He doesn’t seem too perturbed though.

There is what looks like an obviously planted member of the audience who continually throws money at the younger of the two ladies, which is then collected by the camp looking compère and handed back to him. I am invited by another policeman to sing an English (language) song, but I am not too sure what they would make of Leonard Cohen and/or Nick Cave, which are the only songs I can remember the words to anymore, so I decline.

The dancing women start giving me what would qualify in England as the very big eye, me being the novelty attraction, or so I think at the time. Not being entirely sure about what is going on here, I stay glued to my seat. I do handover some rupees as a contribution to the busker fund though.

After a few songs I go back to the petrol station to bed down, but start thinking it might be quite funny to try to awaken the sleeping campers with my voice bellowing on the sound system down the road. I wake up Laurie so that I have someone to video the escapade. She is not best pleased at first, but I sell her the value of the cultural experience. It is only when we arrive that it occurs to me that she is only woman in the audience, and I’m not sure what the local spectators make of her.

I ask a different the policeman if I should get up to sing a song, but he says no, which is the first time I’ve heard an Indian say no since my arrival here. However, I am again the apple of the younger dancer’s eye and am invited up to dance with her. On stage, I do my best to imitate her dancing, but this only serves to amuse the crowd. I am also careful not to get too physically close to her. Though extremely pretty, I am not convinced she would be of the age of consent if this was England and, though her dancing could be said to be quite suggestive, I don’t take this to be an invite to break what I assume to be social norms in India. Meanwhile, the older dancer has disappeared between my visits to the party.

The compère asks me for some more money and I handover another hundred or so, which given the entertainment value I can’t complain about. However, he has also been continually walking to some men behind me and I hear money being discussed. Eventually one of the men, podgy and about 45 years old, starts determinedly waving a large wad of rupees in the air, only to be discouraged from doing so by one of the other men. The compère seems confused and surprisingly not inclined to take the money. It dawns on me that the rupees I have already handed over were more of a bid than an entertainer’s tip, and I decide it is best to make tracks while also thinking how wise it was to advise Laurie that it was not the best idea for her to get on the stage to dance. If she had invited any ‘donations’ I am not sure she would have been coming back with me without a serious risk of conflict.
The Dancing Girls
The Dancing Fool 

Day 73 - 13 October 2009: Agra & Taj Mahal

This morning most of the party head to the Taj Mahal in time for sunrise. I was considering bringing my guitar for one of my worldwide monument poses, but I am glad I didn’t as the gate into the Taj Mahal compound is worse than going through airport security. Any bags are searched, and any goods deemed not appropriate for bringing in are confiscated. This leads to Dan deciding not to go in as they want to confiscate his mascot, many of our party having brought along little toys figures or fluffy things to pose for photos around the globe.

the opposite view (from Taj Mahal)

This girls trousers were inappropriately transparent as she enters mosque

The sunrise against the backdrop of the mausoleum is quite a spectacle, as you will probably have seen in photos. However, the sheer number of people standing in the same place trying to get the same photos can test your patience a little, and I don’t manage to get the perfect symmetrical shot that everyone wants. Also, later, when we are visiting to Red Fort, it strikes both me and Laurie that the Taj Mahal looks even more spectacular when looking at it from a distance of a mile or more.

We spend a peaceful six hours or so walking around the various mosques and lawns in the complex, enjoying a rare opportunity for peace and civilisation away from the baying crowds of hawkers and rickshaws that congregate outside its walls. The Taj Mahal also seems to be a refuge for a variety of wildlife, especially monkeys, although Laurie gets a bit too close to one even though she is naturally scared of almost everything. This one, a male, jumps at her hissing and baring its’ teeth, though just as a warning. 

The Taj Mahal is situated on the banks of the Yamuna River and while walking along the back wall overlooking it, we spot a boat with what looks like three fishermen. A few of our party are also looking at it with their long focus lenses and it’s only then that I realise that the middle one of the three is Dan, who has discovered a more unique vantage point, albeit a limited one, at a much reduced price.

The tickets we have (for which non-Indians are charged £20+) confuse us a little, as they also contain tickets for other monuments, including the Red Fort. In our naivety, it takes us a while to realise that these are not other sites within the same complex, but that exist in and around Agra. That said, we still have to pay an entrance fee when we eventually go to the Red Fort, so I am still somewhat confused. Not as confused as one American visitor though, who was heard to ask if mosque to the side of the mausoleum was a guesthouse.

While looking around for these other attractions within the Taj Mahal complex, we come across a gate which we think might be an entrance to one of them, only to realise that it is actually an exit. Laurie exclaims that ‘oops, there’s a bit too much India out there’. This sounds terrible, I know, but we have been wearied by now.

We went back to the hotel after our Taj Mahal visit and decided to go to lunch before going onto the Red Fort. Coming out of the hotel, three tuk tuk drivers come running at me simultaneously shouting at me to come with them. I raise my arms in an ‘away’ motion and shout ‘bugger off!’ at them. Considering the poverty in which these people live, I can’t say I blame them for hounding western tourists to give them business, but I have lost all patience. We carry on walking, being followed by another rickshaw who won’t take no for an answer. His rickshaw is sponsored by a restaurant which I realise will be geared towards tourists who will pay tourist prices. Eventually, though, I relent and we go to the restaurant which, sure enough, is only patronised by other western tourists who have been brought here by rickshaw chauffeur. It’s clean and peaceful though, and the food is pleasant enough, and we are just glad to be off the street.

Back at the hotel, I spend the evening in my room practicing guitar with Laurie. Outside the door is the courtyard and the rest of our party think I am serenading her. She does seem to quite like my rendition of Leonard Cohen’s ‘I’m Your Man’ and it’s nice to get a smidgen of support as everybody else thinks my playing is bloody awful, including me at times.

Day 72 - 12 October 2009: Monkey Temple and Agra

We drive to Agra today, after stopping at ‘Monkey Temple’ just outside Jaipur, which is as it says on the tin. The monkeys wander the temple grounds and are highly approachable, as they are used to humans giving them food. The temple can’t be an easy place to keep clean given the monkey’s presence, and I’m a little surprised to find people taking ceremonial dips in the dark water pools of the temple. It’s not clear how active the temple is as it decayed and dirty, though it is obviously a holy site to the Hindus who visit.

At the Agra hotel, which is basic but has a pleasant courtyard in which to congregate, I room with Dave and homesick Dan from Nottingham. Dan, standing at five foot not a lot, has become something of a mascot for the round the world pub crawl crew (Essex Sam, Brummie Gareth, Just John, Chef Martin , etc) as he fits neatly into the back shelf of tuk tuks. I get awoken in the early hours of the following morning by him being noisily deposited, disorientated, into a randomly selected bed.

Earlier I had walked around the streets with Laurie on a hunt for toilet paper, as our stocks were running low. We find some initially at a chemist’s, but at 60 rupees for 2 rolls we ludicrously decide that this is too expensive, so our hunt continues. After about an hour, I propose that we go back to the TP dispensing chemist, but have to acknowledge that I don’t know how to find it again. After an hour or so more, Laurie finds some deposited in the upper shelves in the back corner of a densely stacked store and we have to get the step ladder to get to it.

In between being hassled by tuk tuk / rickshaw drivers, we also spot a six legged cow, which is perhaps a descendent of stock from Bhopal, 500km or so to the south.

Day 71 - 11 October 2009: Jaipur, The Pink City

the mirror behind me rudely gave the illusion that I had a bald spot...

It’s my familiar start to a day in India and I stay in bed until about 11 with a hangover. When I get up, I go for a walk with Laurie, who has already taken a walk around the forts. We decide to try lunch at the Om revolving restaurant. However, after ordering a drink, Laurie decides the rotation makes her dizzy and, as the restaurant is on the 14^th floor and we are sat by a window, I am not completely comfortable either, so we decide to leave and get some street food.

In the city, we wander directionless around the back streets. We sheer squalor, over population, pestering, and continuous honking of horns leave me feeling agitated, and I don’t feel like exploring the forts myself, although this is partially due to lacking the energy to walk up steep slopes that this would involve. We get followed around for a while by a group of kids dressed in rags, who constantly beg for money or pens. Not that I blame them considering the circumstances in which they live. There are also the obligatory cows and also some pigs standing in their own manure and rotting rubbish.

In the evening, I go to the same bar with Laurie, and JC comes with us, so now Laurie has two smokers to complain about. We also go for dinner and establish that what is listed on menus in India as ‘mutton’ is usually goat.

Day 70 - 10 October 2009: Jaipur

entertainment at our lunchtime stopover

Today we drive onto Jaipur, the pink city and the capital of the Rajasthan region, home of a number of ancient and intricately carved forts. Driving in, the traffic, though heavy and varied (e.g. camels at the traffic lights), is lighter than in Delhi. 

camels indicating left

The hotel (Sundar Palace) is relatively plush and very clean by Indian standards, with sanitized western toilets! However, it’s my turn to sleep on the floor and then to sleep on the truck as guard the next night, so I don’t feel particularly ostentatious. There is also a pleasant roof top bar, which is where most people gather. However, I decide to explore the surrounds. We are twenty minute walk to the centre of the city, so I head the other way ending up in a bar five minutes away. Laurie comes with me, and is quite flirty although she does constantly complain about my smoking near her.