Grand Voyages, Great Lies

 First stop; Bundi.

After much fustration on my part trying to find the quietest, easiest, cheapest way to Bundi we went to a travel agent….well two. The first had bearly heard of Bundi and wanted to send us to Bombay, and the second told us all the trains were booked…We were just walking out of his door when him and his son find a route we can take. Bophal to Bina, then Bina to Kota….I already knew that from Kota we could get a regular local bus to Bundi , plus after busing it around Goa we were used to 3 leg journeys.

The change from train to train unfortunately would take place at 2am, so after about 2hrs squished into a seat with 6 men opposite on a seat made for 3, we fled gratefully to Bina platform. We knew we had around an hour to wait and would have been grateful of a chai wallah, who always seem to be present at every station 24hrs. Instead we dealt with the constant up close stares of old men without the sugar or caffine and the sleazy smirks of boys trying not so successfully to take a sneaky picture of us on their phones. It was a strange scene at the station, as it was so cold most people were wrapped in scarfs and blankets.. Kate opened here rucksack to see how many layers she could fit on, the late time and coldness seemed to of made us a bit delirious, but still the sight of many many people sleeping on the platform shrouded from head to toe in sheets was surreal. Like I was about to board a funeral train.(Bring on Varanassi) The large mural of psychedelic mushrooms on the station wall above the bodies  didn’t help my sanity in this situation.

We made it to bundi still intact and headed straight for a guest house our friend had recommended. The R.N Haveli was no ordinary guest house, described to us as a home away from home it was definitely cosy and fairly cheap. It was owned by a family of power women. Mama, as she introduced herself was in-charge and certainly took no rubbish from the men in her family who visited from time to time, or any males at all, she told us of the things she would do to young boys if she caught them looking through windows to spy on her daughters. ( Alot of bitting and strangling judging from her actions too)

She was the first woman to open up her home to guests in Bundi and suffered much controversy for it. Bundi was unlike any other town I’d been to before in India, we were in the north now so apart from the colder weather I was expecting something different. The tall square houses with their flat roof tops and random clusters of stairs reminded me of the trips id been on to Tunisia when I was young.

Here music was blasted out in the streets for several processions that took place the first day we arrived. Lots of brass instruments, tubas trumpets were sounded for what we later learned was a wedding. I hadn’t heard music like this yet in India. From a roof top cafe at one of the other Haveli’s we had an awesome view of the town around us, over looked by the great fort and palace.We planned to go up there the next day.

As look would have it we met a Norwegian and a German over dinner and made more plans to go and see a waterfall the next morning. At sometime after 11am as the driver was late we packed 3 grown men and  two women into an unlicensed taxi -driven as a hobby by a nurse who also worked at a guest-house….On the way pointed out to us were ‘prostitute colonys’ .

For the first time as we set out to the waterfall we could see why Bundi was called the blue town, its strange that you don’t see the colouring from the ground but up on the road you could see that around 80 percent of the buildings were painted blue. Bhranham blue to keep the homes cool and ward off insects. After as many jokes as you can have with an Aussie, a Kiwi, an Indian, one Scandinavian and two Brits stuffed into a car, we reached the waterfall.

  Only the pictures will do it a little justice. It wasn’t especially tall, 40metres or so but the sereeness and the beauty of the green lagoon at the bottom was enough to make you want to throw yourself from the top and into the cool waters. We climbed the steps down past the two temples to the dried river below and clambered the rocks until we found a nice pair of flat boulders to bathe on next to the large pool. The water was icily cold, but we swam nonetheless, until we reached the mass of water cascading over the rock face. In the dazzling sunlight the water droplets sparkled and the whole scene was magical. We fought our way under the waterfall itself and sat behind it on the rock face.. with the water pouring down in front of us. I could have set up a house right there….though it would have been very wet so after a moment to ponder such a possibility, I decided my future home would be on a ledge opposite from where I’d have a full view of the rocks,water and trees.

We all ventured up to the fort that evening just before sunset so we had an amazing view of the palace and the town, at the most beautiful time of day. Climbing through the fort was much fun with the large wooden doors and stone gates still intact. We chose a little hovel about half way up to watch the sunset and weren’t disturbed by the infamous monkeys.. until we let our guard down. They stole my wallet…then dropped it after a breif chase and and a water bottle being thrown at them….we should of bought the sticks a wallah offered us before we set out up the hill (sold specailly for hitting monkeys with)…but then after this incident we found out own monkey sticks.

As our Norwegian friend said you could live up in the fort buildings and no one would be any the wiser, who was going to trek up the hill to see what you were doing? Who was going to care? Though you’d be cold so would have to be sure to take atleast 4 blankets with you for the night. Making our way back down and narrowly avoiding another monkey attack to the 1st member of the party (that would have been me)… we reformed and landed safely at the bottom of the fort with nothing but a large monkey ‘coming up behind us’.Presumably to see us off his territory.

 The next evening, an 8 and a half hour government bus ride later we are in Udaipur, reunited with out friend Merav. Illness has prevented me till now from moving or leaving the hotel much but this morning early on, before the morning prayer call that makes Kate groan I ventured up on to the roof top of our hotel where mattresses and pillows litter the floor, i sit here comfortably typing surrounded by views of buildings and lights with the prayer calls echoing round me.  From Rajasthan with love x

Bhopal is definitely the dirtiest city we’ve been in. Bangalore was mostly clean in the centre and the modern housing complex where we stayed. though as with everywhere after the first few pile of rubbish you neglect to notice them anymore. I was surprised to arrive at the hotel Sonali- posh and clean with a bell boy and door man nonetheless! ( note; we are still only paying the equivalent of 2.50 per night here -which is cheaper then the dirty hotel in Mysore) My surprise at the cleanliness was due to the dirty back streets wehad traveled down in the rickshaw to reach the Sonali.

 Despite all beauty India IS dirty and shockingly the people dont seem to care, many times food trays and packets weve eaten from at cafes and roadsides have been thrown on the floor besides us, as the waiter cleans the table on our departure. Its as if nobody seems aware of the impact on the enviroment in which they live, there just used to it and continue to throw rubbish off rooftop cafes and out of train windows.

Back to Bhopal…In the morning when I leave the hotel in search of breakfast I know Kate is going to hate it here. Instantly I’m pointed at and questioned- don’t i want a taxi, a rickshaw, a friend?…..a women smoking…that is q sin!! The gritty city howeverchas its own prettiness in the cold morning sun, for it is a lot cooler here then Goa was…and Goa in turn was cooler then Pondicherry – as has been the pattern as we travel north. Its so strange to us to feel chilly, and equally strange to see Indian business men dressed in knitted sweater vests and women (when spotted) wearing cardigans underneath their sari. Though its still a damn sight warmer in the day then an english summer! I mean it is still India. The ear muffs and puffer coats sold of cart vendors on the streets aren’t quite necessary for us Brits just yet, though I can imagine at some part of our trip in Rajasthan I will invest in a nice red duffle coat for the equivalent in rupees to a fiver.

Bhopal isn’t much of a tourist hive….well we haven’t seen another westerner at-all since arrival and their defiantly isn’t a tourist draw to the city since mostly it is associated with the chemical disaster several years ago. However these are the reasons I wanted to visit this city. The chemical spill is not mentioned or remembered anywhere which I found dissapointing but intriguing. I love Bhopals insanity. Only in India would u see a landdrover driving with poles double the length of the vehicle hanging out of both the back and front windscreen.

Another draw for me was the open air Indira Gandhi Rashtriya Manav Sangrahalya Musem. Essentlially a museum dedicated to the historical and indigenous Indian cultures. The grounds on Shamla Hill over looking the lake are home to specially constructed local houses of tribes from all over India. With an anthropological interest, it was reassuring to see recognition to native peoples and their ways of living. Though having traveled though India for almost 2months now I felt that the individually constructed homes of each community couldn’t really be represented in any other place but their own environment. In a way the museum park tried  to condense the way different indigenous people live into one complex. Almost to offer the option of seeing all of the localities at once. Still I was mightily impressed something like this existed, almost like a history museum before its needed, seeing as most of the construction I was familiar with from my time in Sadhana forest, and the beach houses and huts in Gokarna and Goa.

After a walk down from Shamla and lots of propositions from guy on bikes we hail a rickshaw to the lake, which in my opinion is the shinning jewel of the city- and its a huge jewel at that, as you can bearly see one side from the other. “That isn’t a lake” according to Kate. It doesn’t take much discussion between the two of us to decide that we’ll opt for the speed boat ride round the lake instead of the pedal or rowing boats. As much fun as the latter can be the men driving the speed boats looked as if they may make your ride worth while by tipping you into the water round a sharp turn….it provided a pretty view of the city just seeing the water and then the far off shore and none of the dirt.

And that was bhopal, we made the most of our ‘free’ wi-fi in our hotel room, ate cheap local chicken byriani ( successfully) then treated ourselves to a box of Indian sweets. We took a walk the next day deep into the city markets and passed through areas where I’d place a hefty bet no white girl has walked before. then its time for another train as we make our way to Bundi, Rajasthan.