More fire and more sightseeing

So again I haven’t been posting but I have less than 3 weeks left in India so have been busy jetting around the country. I’m just back from Jaipur. Those with keen memories may remember I went to Jaipur last May, so why may you ask did I return to Jaipur. Well a very nice French colleague was over to deliver training last week, she wanted to stay and see some of India we went off to Jaipur. The original plan had us in Agra too but we decided to return straight to Delhi as 8-10 hours in a car was too much. It’s no bad thing we decided against Agra as it would have been my fourth trip to Agra and I’m not the biggest fan of the Taj Mahal. Many call it a tribute to love but when all it said and done it’s a very big tombstone. It is a beautiful building but it is over-hyped.



Jaipur was good fun. I spent a fortune on shawls and cushion covers. On the prior trip I bought some beautiful pieces of jewellery but this time I was not tempted much, only one bracelet bought. On Saturday evening we went to a recreation of a Rajasthani village (Rajasthan is a province in western India – much of it is desert but it contains quite a few palaces as the Rajasthani rulers the Maharaja were very keen on building palaces. While we were at the royal palace we saw the current Maharaja – he’s quite old but looked quite distinguished. I was a little disappointed that he wore western dress as I would have iked to see the extravagant maharaja costumes). Some elements of the recreation were very tacky – a guru in a cave. However most were interesting (puppet shows, folk dancing) or fun (camel and elephant rides). Also included in the admission price was a traditional Rajasthani meal. This comprised of several dishes (they claimed 27 which doesn’t seem far off the mark). I have no clue what half th stuff I ate was but most of it was good. The restaurant was a little too authentic for me – there were no chairs; everybody sat on the floor. Not only that I got a terrible cramp in my leg and had to walk it off half way through the meal. This drew the attention of half the staff where all I wanted was to be left alone. The plates and bowls were made from leaves which is all well and good except the leaves are not entirely waterproof and the spinach dish was watery and split all over my poor colleague. Fortunately as I am an India veteran now I was well equipped with tissues and wet wipes to help clean up the ensuing mess.



The prior weekend I was in Goa and Mumbai. I flew into Mumbai and negotiated the tricky matter of getting a taxi from the airport (I tried to get the hotel to arrange a car but after 3 attempts and more than 30 minutes of my life spent on hold, I gave up). Upon checking in I was informed I had been upgraded due to my gold card status – the room was fine and the view was spectacular looking out over the Arabian sea. I had read that Mumbai is a “happening place” – it’s the home of Bollywood and India’s financial centers. Foreigners abound there. It is also home to one of the largest slums in the world. I was prepared for a hectic city which overwhelms, charms and devastates all at once. However I found a beautiful city ruined by the smell of sewage coming from the sea which surrounds it. I ventured out for a walk, braving the smell (familiar pleasant salt air contaminated by too many people and a lack of urban planning) – perhaps I could have survived the smell but the heat finished me. It was 35C and this is winter. Summer must be hell. Fortunately I only had 24 hours in Mumbai. I left not unhappy but with a strange feeling I get more and more often. I think it is a sign of getting older. I leave a place and think “this is probably my last time here”. It’s not that I can’t go back but thinking about time, money and desires it’s unlikely I will be back in Mumbai or Shimla or Agra. It’s not that I want to return but just that I probably never will. I realize that time is speeding by and that even a full and long life is still a very short time.

After Mumbai, I proceeded to Goa. It seems everybody loves Goa – beautiful beaches, tropical hillsides speckled with Portuguese colonial houses, exquisite churches, delicious food. The beaches were big and sandy but when traveling alone (as I was) swimming is not an option. The food was lovely especially the Goan bread and prawn curry. Old Goa was marvelous – for me it required no imagination to see 17th century Jesuit priests wandering about the church gardens. The churches looked out over blue seen, the view obscured only by the forecast of palm trees. A pleasant breeze circled the area. There was a lot to like about Goa but also some things blighted my visit
I was seriously misled by Lonely Planet. The place I stayed was fine but completely overpriced.
No diet coke in the hotel or any restaurants. I found some in one shop. I know it seems childish to complain about the lack of diet coke but in a town where you can order kingfisher beer for breakfast it seems some diet coke is not an unreasonable request.
It’s still India and you have to bargain with everybody for everything. Even when I bargain hard, I know I’m being fleeced and the injustice of it drives me crazy so I get in a bad mood and don’t buy things I want. Even the things are not so expensive but I know somebody else is getting it for less and I just feel I would rather pay double in Ireland in the knowledge that everybody is charged the same price.
It’s not as poor as other parts of India but there are still beggars and the little girl who grabbed my leg and pleaded for money for food affected me more than any beggar has for quite some time.
The flight from Goa to Delhi was delayed for ages.

The observant among you will have noticed that I mentioned a fire. While packing to go to Mumbai and Goa, it was cold in Delhi so I had the heater on. I noticed an unpleasant burning smell but thought little of it – the poor homeless souls in Delhi are often burning rubbish to keep warm in the winter months. However in this case I should have paid more attention because the burning item was my portable heater. The plastic handle caught fire and the flames went dangerously close to the curtains.

On planet Helen, household fire is sufficient reason not to be blogging.