Bikaner – it’s Bonkers!

21^st July – After the wonderful town of Mandawa we drove west all day to the city of Bikaner about ½ way across northern Rajastan. We visited a couple of sites along the way & Ramesh entertained us with stories of his life & a CD of hits from 50s & 60s Hindi blockbusters (can't recommend that one actually). The hotel wasn't up to scratch, despite looking at 3 rooms we just didn't feel at home there after the wonderful Mandawa Heritage. We flexed our A$130/day muscles & Feroz transferred us from Sub-par Towers to the businessy but lavish Raj Villas. Room was huge with double daybed under the window, sofa, chairs & coffee table. Noice.

We visited couple of spots downtown with Ramesh in the afternoon & enjoyed the lunch & sweets he arranged for us. I rapidly became addicted to ladoo the yellow balls of coconut, sugar, butter & sometimes raisins that are available all over the country along with several other treats made of coconut, sugar, butter & pistachios or cashews & even silver leaf. We did notice however that the streets seemed a little, well, full. There was little tarmac to be seen outside the restaurant between the sea of bicycles & beggars, motorbikes & pedestrians, tuk-tuks & traffic cops, hawkers & hustlers, it was packed.

It was also bloody noisy, even for India, perhaps because the streets were so crowded or maybe just 'cos it's fun Bikaner drivers don't just honk their horns, they LEAN on them. It seemed common for a Hero Honda or a Maruti Suzuki to keep a blast on the obligatory airhorns going from one end of main street to the other. We were worn out & clinically deaf within minutes (although doubled up laughing at the same time) when one of coined the phrase "Bikaner, it's Bonkers!" which has become a catchcry for the rest of the trip.

The evening trip out was on our own, Ramesh dropped us near main street with the usual incomprehensible instructions on how to find our way home. Had a fab meal at one of the streetside cheapies & then got hopelessly lost in the market wonderful. The people of Bikaner talk as loud as they drive…

On the way back we stopped at a level crossing when the boom gates came down for an approaching train. Much hilarity from the locals who all just kept on keeping on, vaulting the barrier, limboing under or squeezing through the gap at each end. The train didn't come for a good 10 minutes & the last few daredevils were floodlit in the engines single lamp but no one was seriously hurt. The vision of motorbikes being leant over at 45 degrees to get under the boom as a train approaches will stay with me a long time.

There are some shots of all this below, & a few of Bikaner fort which was majestic. Also a couple more of the Rat Temple (which we visited that day) just for those of you who can't wait to see it again J

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The mad Muezzin of Mandawa – Carol wept

19th July approx – After signing up for a 21 day tour with our driver Ramesh, way back in July, our first stop was 5hrs by Ambassador from Delhi in the small town of Mandawa. What a wonderful way to start! We knew we’d paid top dollar for the tour (A$130 per day for car driver, diesel, tolls, aircon hotel room, brekkie etc) but didn’t really know what type of hotel we’d stay in or what quality to expect. In the dim & distant 90s we’d been content with a mat on the floor of a bamboo hut but being 50ish ain’t the same as being 35 as those of you nearer the former than the latter will attest.
We arrived at the Mandawa Heritage Hotel about tea-time after rattling down dusty lanes & past somnambulant donkeys & camels & were greeted with a colourful confection that, if I was 40ft tall, I’d have gone at with a cake slice. The outside is all icing-white with multi-coloured stylized floral & geometric frescoes & murals of dancing nobles. Like many of the traditional hotels in Rajastan it was a beautiful restored ‘haveli’ or mansion. The Marwari people of the these areas (Marwar & Shekawati) built these palaces as a sign of their wealth. They are built around 2 courtyards but the best way to learn about all that is here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haveli .
The lobby of the Heritage moved C to tears, literally. It was so beautiful. We walked in with our bags & looked around & couldn’t quite believe our eyes, have a look at the slides… Our first room was ok but Ramesh wasn’t impressed & got us moved on day 2 to the best room in the house when it became available, again see pics. We really enjoyed Mandawa & I’ve been meaning to write about it for weeks, we got to know many local kids in our 2 ½ days & ate at both of the town restaurants. We toured a couple of other Havelis in the area & loved listening to the temples & mosques competing for the sunset atmospherics as they chanted & cymballed & drummed all around us, magic.
And the mad muezzin? One of the 3 evenings he didn’t stop after calling the faithful to prayer but carried on with a loud, grumpy sounding reading of most of the Qur’an. At one stage we heard other victims shouting at him but the amplified shouting didn’t stop till about 1am. Eventually we slept & dreamt of the desert…

Return to Caer Ferch Uchaf – life on the mountain

English Summer of 1976, just done my A-levels (2 of, rather ordinary) in Surrey & the family moved to our new home on a hillside in North Wales. My parents had bought a small farm near where we'd been holidaying for years. At about 25 acres it was called 'Caer Ferch Uchaf' (upper daughter's field) to distinguish it from lower daughter's field farm across the road. We had 60 sheep, 5 cows, ducks, geese, chooks,pigs, dogs & cats.

I stayed down south for the summer & as C is very tired of hearing it was the hottest summer in recorded geological time & the year of the first Icelandic cod war. This was a non-trivial 'debate' between Brittania & the Icelanders over fishing in the far north. Their trawlers drove at our gunships, harsh words were exchanged & our ambassador had fish thrown at him in Reykjavik High St. I had a great time, fell in unrequited love with the aforementioned ambassador's daughter, worked as a window cleaner (as did she) & went to pop festivals. Can't resist a wild-haired proto-feminist in dungarees. Eventually moved up to the farm just before school re-started.

Was a little surprised that many of my contemporaries didn't speak fluent English.

My sister & brother were freaked out that many of their primary school class didn't speak English, period.

It was a huge culture shock for all of us & in hindsight a life-changing, character forming period. I think we all look back on it fondly, I do.

When our family broke up under difficult circumstances mid-80s the farm was sold & we all moved away to various parts of the UK. I've only been back once in 22yrs or so & that visit was very brief & clouded with emotion.

This trip I wanted to show C where we lived & so we decided rock up to the farm & see if we could look around. I was sooo excited as we drove up the driveway I was almost incoherent. Luckily the current owners Maureen & (dammit, can't find the piece of paper with their names on) were wonderful hosts & let us roam all over the place & even photograph inside the house, my old bedroom etc. They've been there 20yrs or so & are very sad to be leaving as he's not well they can no longer keep the place going. A lovely, lovely couple of hours. C kept misting up at the intensity of the experience but carried on filming. Call it reality TV? Hope it's not too indulgent…

Two Traffic junctions – Jodphur & Madurai

We arrived in Jodphur, Rajastan on 26^th July. Ramesh turned the Ambassador down the narrow street leading to our guest house & we were drawn inexorably into the funniest traffic jam of my life. The road, lane really, was a major thoroughfare in this old part of the city but barely wide enough for our car & a tuk-tuk to pass normally. So it was a perfect place, of course, for the sewer wallahs to dig up the tarmac, deliver 600mm concrete piping, & then go "oh bugger it, tiffin time lads, we'll be back on Tuesday". Utter chaos ensued as Ramesh refused to back up, the tuk-tuk drivers became equally truculent & the pedestrians struggled to find a way past. But check out the two hajjis with orange-dyed beards carrying on work in the shops at exhaust-pipe level, just another day…

After that the Jodphur evening market was a relatively peaceful din.

Weeks later & 1000kms away we were in Madurai, standing on a quiet street corner for a couple of minutes. There's a comic roadsign, a disco temple, an optimistic deliverer of plastic pipes, the cow that knocked C over, & the aforementioned spats! I Love this video.