Jaipur proves to be challenging travel - much more so than Mumbai. A stomach bug leaves us looking like a scene off of bridesmaids - bent over with cramps and screaming "oh god, what did we eat?!?!". It gradually subsides as we settle further into the days here.
We must swallow our pride as we are faced with tuk-tuk drivers charging double what they should, people offer free tours and then demand tips and guards at attractions offer photos and then charge us for them. It is hard to fight the pessimism and skepticism of the people. In between, though, we meet those who force us to challenge our beliefs of this place. They feed the animals daily, smile sweetly and help us to find where we need to go. The Hindi kindness shines through in a place with so much hardship.
Arriving in Jaipur on an overnight train from Mumbai, we are bombarded with people and horns of the busy traffic. We walk to a guesthouse where we have called for two days prior to be told we have a room. We do not - but we are offered a dorm room that looks like a slum, filled with 10 mattresses and old bedding in a room no larger than 10 square metres. Surprisingly, we decide not to take floor space for the night.
We are driven by a tuk-tuk driver into the old city, to find there is a Hollywood filming taking place. We unknowingly walk into frame of Judi Dench and Bill Nighy, to be fiercely told off by an Indian official. We stand with the locals watching the filming of Marigold Hotel 2 with bright eyes until we are moved on by the crew.
The rest of the first day is spent approaching lonely planet recommended places to find that they are terrible or there is no one there. We stand inside dirty reception areas waiting for staff that never show up. Cutting our losses, we book a night at a more expensive place and decide to regroup after a night of good sleep and a hot shower. It's much colder than we expected, and our clothing is insubstantial. We huddle up under the covers and watch bits of Twilight in terrible quality on the television.
The rest of our time in Jaipur is spent at a home stay, with a friendly host who works as a tour guide for the city. We live in a clean and comfortable room above his family home and everything begins to feel more manageable in the city.
On day three we finally set out to see the sights. Over two days we visit Jantar-mantar observatory, the City Palace, Amber and Jaigarh forts and stand atop Hawamahal and look out over the old city. It was painted pink for Prince Albert & Queen Elizabeth II when they visited, and to alter it now is illegal.
I try my first punjabi suit. It's top consists of a rich red with gold flower color blocking, paired with dark blue pants that match small bits of blue in the top. It's light and comfortable, but my figure doesn't coincide with any of their sizes, too big in some places and small in others. They offer a tailor made option, and the plethora of options overwhelms me. They stand and stare as I deliberate and it all feels a bit pressured. I tell them I'll think about it.
At the Amber Fort we are approached by a uniformed guard who offers a tour. He moves fast and speaks in broken English - but knows the place like the back of his hand. We descend steep staircases into darkness and through tunnels to arrive at places unseen by many. Water catchments underground where kings bathed themselves now sit black with dirt and pollution.
We stand at the lake in front of the fort as the sun sets and meet Kamal. He works for a bank and is feeding a mixture of flour and water to the fish. No fish can be seen, only the hundreds of tiny floury balls sitting on the top of the water. He breaks the large dough into three and hands us each a piece. We struggle to keep up with the speed at which he picks off a piece, rolls it and flicks it into the water. He explains that he comes every week to feed the fish, before excusing himself and reaching into his pocket for food and walking away. He splits the food into parts, and moves to four of the surrounding stray dogs and places it in front of them. He returns and we speak of life and the differences in where you grow up and your outlook on the world. It's fascinating to hear all the differences and his thoughts on it all. He offers us a ride back into town on his motorbike. We politely decline - not keen to die with three on a bike, and instead exchange emails and say goodnight.
As we drive with Abhishek to the bus stop for our overnight bus to Udaipur, we swerve side streets and he stops in what looks like the middle of nowhere. His headlights illuminate him as he grabs a chapatti bread from the dashboard, gets out and moves towards a cow and her calf. He places the chapatti before them and we continue on our journey as if nothing unusual happened. He explains that in Hindu families, the first chapatti made for the day goes to a cow. "What if you can't find her every day?" "I drive and look for her - or another cow". It's so bizarre and fantastic I can't help but smile.
By the time we leave Jaipur, it feels like a different place to where we arrived. We have mastered the crowded bus system, find the first supermarket of India and we work out how to layer our clothing so we are the perfect combination of warm enough and hilarious to look at. Jaipur throws up the challenges of India, but overcoming them only further prepares us for the rest of this colorful, bipolar country.
