The alarm went off at 3.15am and we went down to the reception where there were several men sitting around looking very chirpy. One went off to get a taxi while I paid for the taxi and checked out and then we took the 5-minute drive to the airport. The driver asked for payment and was very miffed when I told him I had paid the hotel and he would just have to trust me on that, as I wasn’t paying twice.

The minute we stepped into the claustrophobic, stiflingly hot departure hall, a man asked us where we were flying to and pointed us to the British Airways queue and from then on we were just part of a shuffling line of weary humans going through various checks, rechecks and interrogations. I had both my hand luggage and my case checked but all they were concerned about was my trusty travel kettle that was inspected and passed as of no threat.

The departure lounge was packed and we couldn’t find seats near the B.A. gate so the rolling news being played on an overhead TV was in Hindi. We were still able to make out from the occasional subtitle that there had been a series of bombings, in the holy town of Varanassi where Mike and Brenda are spending a few days later in the week, and in Faisalabad which is a suburb of Delhi that we had driven through the previous day. Bombings and civil disturbance are rife in India and generally don’t get reported around the world and are quickly resolved but occasionally they target tourist areas. There had been several people killed in Ajmer a month previously when a very well known temple was targeted and road checks are frequent but this was the first time something had happened close by while we were there, all-be-it unknowingly at the time.

The plane was on time and the flight passed without event…just time to watch two episodes of Rebus (WHY do they change the storyline? Read the books by Ian Rankin, they are much better!), The Shawshank Redemption, Sliding Doors and an episode of Grand Designs, eat a couple of meals and stare out of the window at the snow topped peaks of Iraq as we flew over Tashkent, then on to Warsaw, Kiev and finally into Heathrow.

We had to wait half an hour as some plane or other was in our parking space but our cases appeared on the carousel as we stepped up to it and Martin was waiting for us at the arrivals barrier.

 

The roads home seemed curiously deserted. It was odd how the traffic stayed in lanes and used those funny little orange flashing things a lot, the lorries seemed curiously and boringly plain to look at and why wasn’t anyone sounding their horn????

And so we arrived at home to a welcome from the dogs and an almost fitted, fitted kitchen. Mary and I said our goodbyes and she started up her car for the first time in a month and drove off home to Somerset.

 

 

The sentimental bit

Later that evening, I stood looking at the stars out of the bedroom window and thought about India and the people we had met, Pushkar and TOLFA and the dogs who would be fast asleep in their pens. I was reminded of the closing scene of Local Hero where MacIntyre, who has been sent over from the States to a remote Scottish costal village to buy it up on behalf of the Knox Oil and Gas Company, opens the doors to his apartment, hears the traffic below and thinks of the village. The film ends in Scotland with a shot of a red phone box on the quay, ringing and ringing with no-one answering.

 I’d like to think that back in TOLFA, a dog woken from sleep by something it couldn’t quite pinpoint opened one eye and looked to see who was about, before settling back to sleep again.
But it probably didn’t.

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC00836.jpg [/IMG]

 

At breakfast the following day, a very nice Australian woman appeared and asked us what we thought of the place. She was a seasoned Indian traveller but it was her boyfriends first time and she needed a hotel that would break it to him gently. Fortunately, they had a room free and we seriously considered seeing if we could stay the following night too as we hadn’t paid a deposit for the hotel we had booked, but there were no rooms free.

We booked a car and driver, (who turned out to be from Nepal and had been in Delhi for 11 years but goes back home each year to see his family) and asked him to take us to the Government Emporium. This show cases crafts from each state at set prices with a fixed proportion going to the producers. Mary had been asked to get some incense for a friend and he stopped at an excellent shop on the way out where they had more different types that I have seen in my life. The trouble is they insist on opening packets for you to smell and after a while your nose seizes up completely.

The final leg of the trip was the Hotel International Inn, approximately 4km from Indira Ghandi International Airport and so a 5-minute drive in the morning. I was relieved to find that, once again, Internet booking works and despite not paying in advance, we had a twin room booked and as they run their own taxis, they had quoted 200 Rupees to transfer to the airport in the morning. On balance, it was a better choice then the Grand Godwin as a base for an early morning flight and to Mary’s relief this place was not a Hotel Smyle clone either.

We had supper at their sister hotel next door, the Hotel Star, before going back to our room to pack and have an early night in preparation for the flight home. Not a very impressive menu, especially if, like me you had eventually admitted defeat on the gastro-intestinal front and decided to avoid anything spicy for a few days. The girl on the pay desk spent her time giggling on the phone and filing her nails while a thin, anaemic looking waiter of about 20 years old who walked as if he was 90, shuffled up and down from the dumb waiter bringing each item of the order one at a time and letting them slip out of his hand onto the table at an alarming angle, especially as I had ordered cream of tomato soup. That backfired on me totally as Heinz it certainly was not. Actually it was very nice but what I initially thought was a chilli kick, I suddenly realised was Asafoetida, a member of the onion family that tastes strongly of hot garlic but, fortunately, doesn’t have either the after-taste or smell. For those who are interested, Bart Spices do it and it’s so strong in smell that, despite being in a glass bottle, inside a glass bottle, you can still just about detect the aroma of garlic seeping through the plastic lid.

It reminds me of the Garlic oil in my essential oils box. It’s wrapped in a bubble wrap envelope, inside a self-seal plastic bag, in a metal tin with 3 rubber bands keeping it closed and it still stinks of garlic bread!

 

 

The drive to Delhi was punishing. It took about 7 hours and the first hour was spent just getting out of Agra’s hot, congested, grubby streets. Once you hit the national highway it’s not bad at all but I think Agra is worse than either Delhi or Jaipur for congestion and the dust and heat were very bad. Poor Brenda had a terrible coughing fit, triggered by the dust coming in my window, totally bypassing me and landing on her so we wound up all the windows. The car got steadily hotter as, with no air conditioning, the fan was just pushing hot air about the place but it wasn’t too bad as long as you weren’t standing still in traffic. We had a quick pit stop for lunch (I declined as my stomach wasn’t quite re-acclimatised to food and was doing impressions of a hot air balloon) and then pushed on.

Once again, Gunjan was a total star and eventually found Brenda’s hotel by a combination of conversations with men on scooters and phoning the owner to send a runner out to meet us. Actually, he was less of a runner and more of an elderly man who walked very fast. He met us at a petrol station and shot off round the corner. By the time the car had done a U-turn, he was disappearing through the front door of the B&B that was only just a few yards round the corner.

Brenda got her cases, said a swift and travel-weary goodbye and went in to meet Mike who had flown in yesterday while Mary and I endured another 30 minutes or so of driving round trying to find the Hotel Grand Godwin.

We finally go there, unloaded our cases and dismissed Gunjan with a bundle of Rupees in his top pocket as a tip and strict instructions to get himself home to his family asap as he hadn’t been home for nearly 8 days and his 16 month old son had taken offence and stopped talking to him on the phone.

 

Well, the Hotel Grand Godwin certainly made up for the journey from hell and was certainly not a repeat of the Hotel Smyle Inn of the first night in Delhi! Lots of men appeared to grab our bags, the receptionist immediately handed us sealed, pre-packaged cups of mineral water and with assurances of “Anything you need, day or night, we are here 24 hours a day to serve you”, we shot up all of 15 feet in the glass elevator to our room on the first floor. And what a room!!! We both have to admit to getting a bit over excited about it.

For less than the price of an average UK B&B we got a triple room (single and a king sized bed as they didn’t have any twin left) a mattress the thickness of the polar ice-cap and HOT WATER, not just by the trickle but in a glorious, constant, high pressure deluge. Bliss! Interestingly, even in higher star rating hotels, “the ubiquitous bucket” still puts in an appearance!

After a very light supper on the rooftop restaurant (both still suffering from hot air balloon syndrome, probably from all the travelling) we crashed out like two companionable little old ladies to read our books for a bit and get some sleep.

 

The alarm went off at 5.15. By 5.45, we were standing in line at the East gate ticket office of the Taj Mahal and by just after 6.15 Mary and I had been searched, frisked, scanned and were in…. only to find that Brenda had been sent back out to put the pen-knife they found in her hand bag in a locker for safe keeping. They are understandably paranoid about dame or graffiti and they don’t let you take your i-pod in either, not that I have one. Mobile phones must also be switched off to avoid spoiling the tranquility of the place…no “Hi, it’s me. Yeah, I’m in front of the Taj Mahal!” type conversations allowed here!

Actually, I cheated as I use a camera phone so I put it on silent and hoped for the best.

We wandered through the gatehouse and down the topiary-lined pathways until we reached the gateway where the Taj is in full view and stood on the steps, poised for the moment when the sun came up, the Taj turned pink(ish) and the cameras started clicking. As the sun came up slowly, it was pretty obvious that however hard the authorities try to minimise pollution in the imemdiate area that may turn the marble of the building grey, they can’t do much about the smog and mirk that follows the sun on its upwards journey across the morning. The effect is more of a mirky autumn day at home than a mystical experience but there is something quite atmospheric about the misty backdrop.

We took some photos and once it was clear that there would be no “rosy sunrise” to turn the Taj that iconic pink colour, we wandered off to get a closer look, passing the marble bench where “those” pictures of Princess Diana were taken at the time of her marriage break-up. (Incidentally, anyone know how the inquest is doing? It all seems like another world away and yet strangely ironic at the same time).

 

The outside of the Taj is carved and you can take pictures of it, while the inside is carved and covered in millions of flowers made from inlaid rubies and other precious stones, and you can’t take pictures of it. The tombs inside are surrounded by beautifully carved and inlaid jalis and are actually replicas. The originals are under the floor of the entrance and you can peer into pitch blackness through a brass grating and say to each other “Oh yes, there they are…I think”.

Am I giving the impression that I wasn’t impressed? To be honest, it is very pretty and the weather didn’t do much, but I was surprisingly unmoved by it and disappointed that this was the case. I honestly don’t know why but I suspect people fall into two categories, those who swoon over architecture and those who prefer landscapes and I found myself enjoying the landscaped gardens and watching the Black Kites wheeling overhead and the chattering, bright green parakeets much more. Given a choice of this or Ranthambhore, I found the latter much more beautiful, far more interesting and a million times more awe inspiring.

Ok, call me a heathen, it won’t be the first time, but there was something very stark and impersonal about it all and I thought it wouldn’t have looked out of place on top of a wedding cake. Having said that, I’m not totally untouched by architecture. I have been moved to tears at the Menin Gate in Ypres, the truly, heartbreakingly beautiful memorials to those lost in battle at Thiepval and the peace and tranquillity of the war cemetery at Tyne Cot but then again, who could fail to give a sharp intake of breath at any monument designed to commemorate the idea of death on such a vast scale.

I’m glad I went and here’s a picture of me and Mary to prove we were there…..

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/PauhlaandMaryandanoldbuilding.jpg [/IMG]

 

 

 …but that’s really all I can say.

 

Ok, ok, here are a few more pictures…

 

The Taj in daylight (with smog effect)…

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC01027.jpg [/IMG]

 

The “Baby Taj”, an exact copy across the courtyard made in Red Sandstone.

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC01041.jpg [/IMG]

 

Front entrance to Taj showing decoration and the 5 Pillars of the Koran around the doorway…

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC01059.jpg [/IMG]

 

Same view of the Baby Taj…

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC01078.jpg [/IMG]

 

Decorations around the outside of the Taj showing what I think are Narcissi, Asphodels and Turk’s cap Lillies…

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC01055.jpg [/IMG]

 

Same view of Baby Taj…

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC01083.jpg [/IMG]

 

Close up of Ruby inlay on Taj…

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC01057.jpg [/IMG]

 

View back down towards entrance…

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC01023.jpg [/IMG]

 

“Arty” view of sunrise over the Baby Taj with Kites in sky above…

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC01052.jpg [/IMG]

 

View of landscaped grounds and Mosque in distance…

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC01017.jpg [/IMG]

 

 

 

So,  IF I beat him to it, and IF he is suitably heartbroken, Martin can plant a nice Rowan tree in memorial and I won’t be offended at all.

 

We went back to the hotel for breakfast and then ordered a rickshaw each to take us and our cases back up the punishing incline (if you are a rickshaw driver) to the Hotel Sheela Inn where good old Gunjan was waiting with the car. I offered to get off and walk as it was only my cases that needed transporting really, but the rickshaw driver, who had broken into a sweat and was now walking alongside, pushing with the help of a small boy who appeared out of nowhere, wouldn’t hear of it saying it was his job, so I gave him a decent tip.

The journey to Agra

 

It took most of the day to get to Agra. We stopped off at Fatapur Sikri, a deserted palace that was the capital of the Mughal Empire for a short time, during the reign of Akbar and is a world heritage site. Sam’s cousin who is a guide there, gave us a whistle stop tour of the Jama Masjid mosque, completed in 1571, and the 54m high Buland Darwza (Victory Gate), built to commemorate Akbar’s military victory in Gujarat. Interestingly, the Quaranic inscription inside the archway quotes Jesus saying, “The world is a bridge. Pass over it but build no house upon it. He who hopes for an hour may hope for eternity.”
We passed into the courtyard and saw the marble tomb of the Saint, Shaikh Salim Chishti. It is decorated with flower murals and the ceiling is a beautiful canopy, inlaid with Mother of Pearl. Apparently Akbar came to the saint to pray for a son and today, the marble jalis (lattice screens) are covered with pieces of thread, tied there by people who visit to pray to the saint for a child. Unfortunately there was no time to enter the palace complex as it would have taken a whole day to do it justice but the buildings are supposed to be very beautiful and a blend of Persian, Hindu and Islamic architecture encompassing palaces, mosques, gates, havellis, stables, servants quarters, mosques, towers and ruins. Maybe next time?!

 

We limped in to Agra with Gunjan stopping every few yards to ask directions or winding down the window to bellow at people on passing scooters at traffic lights (people are all very good and accommodating about this and there is nothing they love better than a good debate about the right way!) and eventually we found the way to the East Gate of the Taj Mahal. Our hotel, the Sheela, is literally 200m from the gate and ticket office and all the reviews I had read on sites such as traveladvisor.com, said that this was the easiest hotel to stay in as you literally fall out of bed at 5.45 and you are in the queue for the ticket office when it opens at 6am. This gives you a couple of hours to look round and get photos without too many crowds and then you can clear off for breakfast around 8.30 when it really fills up.

The Taj is in a pollution free zone so you can’t drive to the hotel either so we rang reception and the owner came out on his motorbike and escorted us to his other hotel, the Sheela Inn where we transferred to an electric auto rickshaw and drove the last ¼ mile to the Sheela.
Mary and I went in search of an ATM to get some cash and found one within about 20m of the Taj East Gate and then we had supper at the hotel and an early night. As the toast I had for breakfast was my first food in 36 hours, I didn’t want to push my luck as my stomach got back to normal so, for the first time since we landed in India, I opted for that terribly British cop-out, an omelette. And very nice it was too!
There must have been some sort of music festival on in Agra because for the last hour of the journey, we kept passing trucks with silver loudspeakers mounted on boards and Auto rickshaws, crammed full with horns, drums and other insuruments and any other available space taken up by people bizzarely dressed like the Trumpton Firebrigade!  As we turned the light off to go to sleep, I could swear I heard a band strike up in the distance.

 

Foy Sagar to Jaipur

 

The plan was that Sam would pick us up at 7am and drive us to Ranthambhore National Park, via Jaipur, where, as a native of the city, he would give us a guided tour.

The reality wasn’t quite the same because he had to mend a puncture before he even set out from Pushkar so we didn’t leave till nearly 7.30am.

About an hour down the road, I was just thinking that the car seemed a bit noisier than before when Sam indicated left and as he slowed, I could feel the tyre had gone down. We pulled over and got out and he hailed a passing auto rickshaw to take him up the road to a repair stall while we waited at the side of the road, which gave passers by something to look at. Sam was back in about 30 minutes and put the wheel back on, only to watch it deflate gracefully as the jack was taken away. 

 

Sam and the punctured tyres exit in the autorickshaw…

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/Samspunture.jpg [/IMG]

After some pretty colourful language, Sam hailed another rickshaw and went off again with both tyres and we sat down on a bench under a tree by the village water pump to wait. A man had got off the rickshaw to make room for Sam and the two wheels and he settled himself on a circular concrete plinth under a tree to wait with us. Time went on and he decided we must be getting bored so he beckoned us to follow and took us up some steps to the building next to the pump. It turned out to be a temple to Hanuman, the Monkey God and the priest appeared and gave each of us a bowl containing an eclectic mixture of syrup soaked bready-cake, sort of savoury puffed rice cake type things and other tooth-achingly sugary sweet meats that are a bit like halva and are made of carrot, sugar and milk.

I sat on the bench and ate a few to be polite but then a dog turned up who was obviously feeding pups and we all decided her need for calories was greater than ours.

After a while, the chap and I struck up quite a conversation. The first thing most Indian people want to know is are you married and do you have children and if the answer is no to either, they want to know why! We talked about where we had come from, where we were going, the dog, how we liked India and all sort of other things. Not bad considering neither of us speak each others language and eh was a mute and could only make “aarr” noises. He was a very nice man and not for the first time did it occur to me that, had this been at home, we would probably never had got past the occasional embarrassed eye contact, roll eyes, puff out cheeks and tut at each other occasionally in a “how typical but let’s be stoical about it ” type way.

When Sam got back, the tyre was replaced and held out until about half an hour outside Jaipur. There was that characteristic change in note of rubber on tarmac and at the exact same moment, Sam and I turned to each other and made eye contact with a  “Surely, this can’t be happening again?!” sort of look.

Luckily, a taxi driver pulled up behind us with a couple from California in the back. His car had a Pushkar number plate on and he recognised Sam because his car has a Jaipur plate one and is well known in Pushkar. While they changed the tyre, I chatted to the American couple who I realised I recognised from one of the restaurants. The driver and Sam exchanged phone numbers as Sam had a couple of driving jobs that he was supposed to be doing that afternoon and was able top pass on a return fare to Pushkar to the other driver.  We went in convoy for a while and just when we thought all was going well again, we hit a roadblock and were pulled over by the Police. Both drivers got out and there was much waving of hands, shrugging and gesticulation. One of the Policeman wander3ed over and put his head in at the window so I decide I had nothing to loose and gave him a cheery “Namaste. Problem?”. “No, no problem, Driver…seat belt” he replied and then asked (predictably) “Your country” and in reply to “England” we got the even more predictable “Ah, Queen Elizabeth, Luverly Jumble, Sound as a pound.”

Well he was a Policeman wasn’t he so, where as someone else may have been on the receiving end of one of my best withering “Bloody fool” looks, I nodded and smiled and generally massaged his ego and before we knew it, the other policeman had extorted about 300 Rupees from the taxi driver, Sam had got off Scott free because he had Jaipur plates and we were off again.
Sam dropped us at a restraint in the city about noon while he went off to get two new tyres and said he’s pick us up an hour later (that’s about 90 minutes in UK speak!). In all, that morning had cost him about 6000 Rupees and had probably wiped out any profit he would have made from the 3 days we had booked him for.

 

There was only just time for a whistle stop tour of the old Pink City, including the Wind Palace (Hawa Mahal) with its intricate carved minarets and Jali screens so the women in purdah could look out but not be seen…

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC00884.jpg [/IMG]

 

…and the Royal Cenotaphs where the Maharanis of Jaipur where traditionally cremated  …      

 

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC00906.jpg [/IMG]    

 

…before we met Gunjan, our driver for the rest of the journey, who works for Sam and who we knew from Pushkar.

 

Jaipur is manic, crowded, dusty and hot and with no air conditioning and lungs full of dust, I immediately felt irritable there. There are more horses than we saw in either Delhi or Ajmer and to see a skinny horse pulling a tonga (horse rickshaw), literally grid locked in the middle of a roundabout with 4 lanes of traffic trying to merge into one, resigned, patient and so shut down it was almost oblivious to the horns, heat, dust and engine noise, was distressing beyond belief. I had a suspicion that I would be ok with animal situations as long as I was doing, or knew someone else was doing, something positive about it. I couldn’t see much that was good about some of these horses and pony’s situations, although to be fair, some were actually sound and well fleshed. Others were browbeaten and lame bone-bags whose state and situation made me mutter obscenities under my breath. All I can do is send a hefty donation to the Brooke Hospital or Help In Suiffering and ask that it be spent in Jaipur!

The condition of people meanwhile, is a similar situation and I’m afraid if you go to any large city in India, you will eventually come up against things that upset you. One sight that will stay with me forever is a small toddler, only just capable of standing unaided, being encouraged by its Mother to walk to our car with its arms outstretched, pleading for rupees. We had drawn up to the side of the road to check the map and there was a large crowd of gypsy families who obviously begged here each day. The child’s Mother came over and picked up the baby, pushed it against the window and, knocking on the glass saying “Madam, baby, medicine, hungry,” used the child as a lever to try and get money from us. I ignored it and carried on looking at the map and she moved to the back window and tried again. When Brenda and Mary said no, she came back to me. I felt a complete cow as I gently moved the baby’s arms out of the car so I could wind the window up without trapping them, while the Mother continued to bang on the glass asking for money. Everyone we spoke to about beggers warned us not to give money because the minute you do, they all pile in and surround you and even in a car it can be really intimidating.

My husband Martin was in Nepal in 1996 with ex Ghurkha friends, to trek in the Himalayas and visit some of the projects run by the Ghurkha Welfare Trust. His friends told him that there was only one way to deal with the beggars, bogus or otherwise. Say no and make a hefty donation to UNICEF or Save the Children or some such NGO who could work for the greater good of the whole society. I suspect the water pumps we saw in most villages are probably part of some such wider project and so bring something good to all.

On the one hand, Indian people are incredibly accepting and get on with life with little complaint. The caste system is a trap for many as you cannot change caste in this life but, the Hindu religion does allow for hope because there is a good chance that you will be re-born in a higher caste next time and so live an easier life. On the other hand, this fatalism breeds inertia and to see a child being trained to beg at such an early age is truly shocking. 

 

 

 

   Jaipur to Ranthambhore  

 

Having tried to blank its awfulness out of my memory, there is little I can say to properly describe the drive to Ranthambhore other than if you happen to be a native of Cranham, then never, even complain about the roads again. If you remember the state of the section from the village past Witches Tump before it was resurfaced 3 years ago, then that was the condition of the best bits. The worst were like a moonscape. One minute you would be bowling along on smooth tarmac at 60mph and the next you would be executing an emergency stop because there was a 2 foot wide gap in the road, about 18inches deep, the left carriageway was about 6 feet higher than the right and there was a trailer load of rubble and a cow in the middle of it.

The entire journey was stop start and at times, the road was so much like a building site that we weren’t sure if we were actually on the road or had inadvertently wandered off into some primitive sort of hinterland. Where they were improving the road, there was no “joined up thinking” between those doing the work so, you would have several sections of about 300m of really nice road separated by about 10m of what resembled no mans land without the mud.  A 2 hour journey took nearer 6 and all I could think of was how lucky it was that we had two new tyres because we were going to need a spare before the journey was done.

The road kill on this road was worse than I have seen anywhere else too. A donkey in the middle of the road, a sheep on the verge, several dead dogs in the gutter, one flat as a pancake in the middle of the road. The worst thing is that eventually you get a little resigned (rather than desensitised) to it and where as at home, the sight of a dead dog would be incredibly upsetting, over here you just glance over and think “That’s a shame”. I hope it was killed instantly.” That may sound shocking but I’m afraid it’s one of those things you have to experience to understand. It happens, you can’t change it, at least not overnight anyway. All you can hope for is a quick death, or an organisation like TOLFA to pick up the pieces, which is where I came in.

 

We finally staggered in to Ranthambhore about 7pm and after parking our bags and realising, joy of joys, there was a water heater in the bathroom (HOT showers!!!!), we hit the restaurant where I was so surprised to find chicken curry, I had some. Big mistake but I’ll tell you about the consequences of that later, if you haven’t already guessed!

The Ranthambhore Bagh is a Havelli type hotel about 2km from the National Park with more western style rooms. For a weary traveller, hot water, clean sheets (I was able to leave my trusty single duvet cover in my suitcase for a change) and sparklingly clean bathrooms was a luxury we had forgotten existed.  The buffet-style evening meal is served in the garden with traditional Rajasthani singing and dancing to entertain and it was all very pleasant. I was so hungry I put a dollop of everything on offer on my place and one of them happened to be chicken curry. Not having had meat for over 3 weeks, I was quite surprised but thought no more of it. The following day, about 20 minutes before we were due to go on the afternoon safari, the projectile vomiting started and for the next 5 hours, I was rushing to the loo every 20 minutes, before staggering back to bed and a glass of water and rehydration mix, the single bar electric fire on full blast and pointing at my bead.

After the first couple of hours my bowels decided to join the fun but that was probably a good thing as a couple of hours later, the shivers and aches passed, I could keep water down again and I started to feel a bit better. There was a 7-hour respite when I was able to sleep until I woke up feeling really rubbish about midnight, threw up in spectacular fashion and that was an end to it. Fast onset, fast resolution but just a pain, as I’d been fine all the tiem we were in Pushkar and on top fo everything, I’d had to miss the second safari. On the other hand, it was just as well I cried off, as I was right in the middle of it 20 minutes after Mary left to catch the jeep to the park.

On the positive side, although Mary did see a tigers bum for about 20 seconds and I missed it, I really enjoyed the morning safari and to be honest, while it would have been wonderful to see a tiger, there is so much else to see that for me, it is enough to know they are there and, for the moment at least, safe. Apparently they have two females with 2 and 3 cubs apiece at the moment and Ranthambhore is the only reserve in India where numbers are actually increasing. In the neighbouring Sariska reserve, it is generally accepted that all the tigers were poached out in 2004 to fuel the Chinese demand for Tiger body parts to use in Traditional Chinese Medicine.

 

So, the first safari… we got up at 5.45am and had coffee and biscuits in the lobby before meeting our guide and setting off in the jeep to the park. The drive was freezing and I was glad I brought my coat, hat and mittens (no, really!) but it was stunning. The roadway is paved and lined with trees and even a river, the first running, natural water we had seen all the time we were in India, and with the steep, afforested cliffs rising up above us on each side, there was a touch of something primordial as we drive through the gathering dawn, an image that was reinforced when we reached the inner gateway to the park and had to drive through a wooden doorway that was for all the world like driving in to Jurassic Park in the film, having ditched the rather malevolent looking member of the magpie family who had been perching on the windscreen of the jeep…

 

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The doorway to Ranthambhore…

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The track wound between massive, ancient baobab trees with their roots growing down towards the ground and their branches covered in bright green parakeets, chattering away like Budgerigars in an aviary until the terrain finally opened up to show a large lake, with ancient follies built on the far banks and the steep cliffs of rock looming behind…

 

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The fort of Sawai Madaphur that overlooks Ranthambhore covers an area of 7square km and can be visited but we didn’t have the time to do it unfortunately.

 

 

As we drive through the park, the guide pointed out spotted deer…

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 Blue Bucks…

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 and a huge Alligator, wild boar, an Eagle Owl, a Kingfisher, Monkeys and identified all sorts of bird calls. We came across fresh sets of tiger footprints and followed them but didn’t see one, although I got the distinct impression that somewhere not that far off, a large purring stripy creature was probably sunning itself on an overhanging rock, watching us with a smile of contentment on its face and thoroughly enjoying the joke.

 

Paw prints in the sand…

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As we made the return journey and got back to the lake, another jeep turned up and said they had seen a tiger. Our guide asked us if we’d like to try and of course we said yes and as a result, we had an extra hour in the park, driving maniacally up steep rocky tracks through the trees and along smooth sandy lanes alongside shady pools. We still didn’t see a tiger and I still have the bruises on my shins where we were thrown against the angle iron brace of the seat in front but it was a huge adrenaline buzz and I loved it. I also have to say that however they may drive on the roads, the driver’s skills off-road were awesome.

You know, beautiful as all the buildings and monuments we saw on this trip were, for me, nothing can compare with the natural landscape and I would rather have spent that 4 hours in Ranthambhore than seen all the Taj’s in the world!

The only thing that could have made it better was to have been on a horse instead of in a Suzuki jeep but you can’t have it all and the troop of Monkeys that presented a 7-day-old member of their tribe, right beside the jeep on the return to the hotel was a wonderful memory but I couoldn’t help drawing a parallel between a tiny monkey, encourraged by its Mother to wobble its way to the jeep to take a banana being held out to it and the little child in Jaipur, being taught to beg almost before it could walk.

 

Monkeys on the roadside with 7 day old baby.

 

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I woke the following morning, a little washed out but ready for my toast and coffee and, after checking out we met Gunjan and set off for the chaos and bedlam that is Agra.

 

Our last day.
 I will confess to very mixed feelings at the thought of leaving. On one hand I’m looking forward to going home but on the other, there are so many dogs that I wish I could see go home too before I leave. My mission was to get E1 to the point of going home and that is literally days off now but I really regret not having more time with E14. He’s finally responding to the essential oils and his wound has a 1cm margin of clear, pink healthy skin around it. His toe wound is also healed and the fistula on his left shoulder that used to break out and leak pus every few days has nice, healthy pink skin instead of a soggy, oozing hole. He is calmer and less agitated and is much more affectionate and less timid with me. It’s hard not to feel I am abandoning him but that’s just me being indulgent and letting my feelings getting in the way. Although I know he sees my visits as something positive to break up the day, all he is ultimately concerned with is survival in the moment and as long as he is fed, watered and safe, he will cope. Ultimately, he is a street dog and he will be so much happier back on the streets, especially now he is castrated, as he is less likely to get into another fight over a bitch that was what landed him in here in the first place.

By castrating and vaccinating all dogs, the risk of rabies is reduced year by year since the number of dog fights reduces because there is less competition for bitches in season and any dogs that do bite, have a higher chance of being vaccinated and therefore not infective. Being bitten while vaccinated isn’t protection from the disease although does buy the individual time so in theory, a dog bitten and picked up for treatment that had already been through   the programme, would automatically have a booster vaccination and so could be protected from developing Rabies if done within a few days as the booster is simply a way of raising the immunity already present in the body.

Each dog that comes through TOLFA has a small notch cut out of the left ear and a tattoo inside it, done while under anaesthetic for ABC, that records when it was put through the programme and where it was picked up so that an animal that comes back in, say as a result of a road accident, could receive a rabies booster and any other treatment required.

Research shows that about 15% of the dog population needs to be left entire (i.e. not sterilised) to breed in order to keep a stable population. Dogs do a good job of killing vermin, cleaning up food scraps that encourage rats and mice and also provide an early warning system and protection for their area of street. If anything dodgy goes on at night, the dogs soon let you know and this is one of the positive selling points that is emphasised to local people in order to encourage them to either take responsibility for feeding and watching the health of “their “ dogs, or to keep a neutral attitude towards them at the very least.

 

Rachel wanted to take us to Pushkar to see the Camel fair in the afternoon so we had just the morning to walk the dogs and say our goodbyes. Somehow, I just managed to walk all mine and do their treatments as well. It was a real wrench to say goodbye to each dog as I put it back in its pen for the last time.

At 1pm Wendy came and said we were having lunch on the roof so we climbed the bamboo ladder and sat eating spicy cauliflower scooped up with bits of chapatti and watching the family who live next-door irrigating their Millet crop. They have a water pump connected to a talk supply with a long corrugated pipe. Each field is subdivided into small squares with the plants in the furrow, divided from the next row buy a ridge. The water is pumped into each section to run into the furrows and is held there by the ridge until it has soaked into the poor, sandy soil. The section is then blocked up by drawing soil up to make a bund before moving on to the next section. As a desert region, Rajasthan is almost pure sand and even the areas that have been farmed for centuries and have had manure put on it for years and years, are still covered in a really thin layer of extremely thin, sandy, “hungry” soil. That anything grows is a minor miracle and testament to the care and work each family put in to their patch. This is true, hand-to-mouth, subsistence farming.

 

Birds-eye-view of irrigation taken from the roof of the TOLFA office.

 

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View of the kennel blocks and puppies hanging-out in the yard, taken from the roof.

 

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Local people buy the manure from the cow and donkey block at an affordable price to use on their land. Ox cart is the usual form of transport.

 

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The Camel Fair

 

After lunch, we got into the ambulance and drove back to Pushkar. It was wonderful to be back and in the 4 days we had been away, the town had been transformed into a multi-coloured, manic, camel and horse packed fairground. Over the whole site of about 20 acres, there were Mawari horses, with their curious, inward pointing ears…

 

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…Camels dressed up like Christmas trees…

 

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… and stalls selling everything from camel saddles to sweets and most things in between. Wherever you went, touts appeared trying to sell you everything you have never wanted and more besides, and all at “special price for you only today”.

 

 

 There is a knack to dealing with touts, street sellers and beggars that usually is as simple as putting up your hand and saying “Nay”, which means no, and walking on, studiously ignoring them, which is something that I have no problem doing but some are more persistent and will ask you “why you not want to buy?” Quite by chance I discovered that the simple answer to that one is “Because I don’t like it and I don’t want it,” and they gave up.
Another thing that sometimes works is to say you bought the exact same thing the day before and paid half of what they are asking, which in my case was true when I was offered some bright-coloured felt camel and horse hangings and if they say they will do you a better price now then you just ask “Why on earth would I want to buy more?”
Dark glasses are useful too as it is more difficult for people to engage your attention if they can’t make eye contact but you have to remember to take your glasses off if you genuinely are interested as it also works in reverse when you get to the haggling process. When you do want to buy, the whole charade of bargaining is really good fun. Traders are usually very good humoured and will look at you with wide eyed astonishment when you offer 200 Rupees for something they are asking 500 for and tell you that they have 3 children to feed, they personally sewed on each and every sequin by hand the previous night, it is of the highest quality and you are very lucky to be offered it at such a good price.  The deal is that you offer about 50% of the asking price and meet them at three quarters but if they really won’t budge on price then you just say you will buy it somewhere else and thank you, start to walk away and watch the back-pedalling begin and the price come crashing down.

You do sometimes feel really mean haggling over something that only cost the equivalent of 50p in the first place and to be honest, there were some things I didn’t bother but you generally have to learn to stop converting everything to Sterling and look at the local value and what is a fair price to the seller in Rupees.

Very rarely do you get verbally berated for refusing the asking price but just occasionally a trader will be having a bad day and be a bit surly about it. On the whole, I found that if you enter in to it in the right spirit, the whole process is a lot of fun!

 

We wandered around the fair ground, being impressed by the intricate patterns clipped into the camel’s hair and painted onto their bodies with Henna…

 

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…. and being singularly unimpressed by the occasional camel who was not only tied to a pole and had its back legs hobbled but had one, or in the case of one poor camel, both front legs tied up which meant it really had no option but to lie down the whole time…

 

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As you can see from the picture, the free vet treatment clinic run by Help In Suffering (doing similar work to TOLFA but based in Jaipur), The Brooke Hospital and TOLFA itself, is just behind this camel so with a bit of luck, they will have picked up on it and had a word with the owner to discuss other, more humane methods of making sure the camel doesn’t wander off but can still reach its food and water.

 

As luck would have it, a TV crew turned up and, seeing 5 white women, made a beeline for us and asked for an interview. We thrust Rachel forward with a muttered (“Go girl, it’s free publicity”) and then they asked me so I got a plug or two in for TOLFA at the same time.

Brenda, Mary and I went off with Wendy to look at the rest of the fair while Rachel caught up with Siteram, one of the TOLFA compounders who was there helping to set up the vet clinic and carry out free treatments and then we went into town for supper at a rooftop restraint. Just as we sat down, an amazing 30-minute firework display started across the lake and as we sat watching it, I couldn’t help remarking how, time and again, India seemed to come up trumps for us. Wherever we went, things happened at just the right time and this time, it felt as if Pushkar was pushing out the boat just for us and to say goodbye. I celebrated my last night in Pushkar with Gulab Jamun, the amazing spice and Rosewater syrup milk balls, and felt wistful, but very content.

I can’t believe there is only one more day to go. Tomorrow is our last day at TOLFA and it has gone so fast. It’s not that I don’t miss home and my family and animals but because I know I’m not here forever, I can concentrate on what I am doing in the knowledge that everyone is taken care of back at home.

I have got very fond of several of the dogs but I know that they need to be back home and the most positive thing I can do for them is aid that process. Unfortunatley, the next volunteer isn’t coming out till December 10^th so the dogs will inevitably not get the attention they have been gettting form the 3 of us but I hope that my stressy slow-healers especially, are now in a better place emotionally than they were and their healing will continue, and of course there’s Wendy there till March!

One very positive thing is that Serena, a previous volunteer, is coming back for 5 months next year and she is keen to learn Reiki healing and more about essential oils so Rachel is going ot put her in touch with me. Once she has grasped the basics, she will be able to work with the dogs that are struggling with kennel life, using different forms of healing, as well as giving them attention and from the responses I’ve seen in the short time I’ve been here, I know this will really help to speed up the recovery time of many dogs and I’m really excitied about that prospect!

 

Sadly, we lost a puppy this evening. Two had come in a few days before we arrived at TOLFA and while one was able to go home very quickly, the other had a congenital heart defect. He was on Frusemide to reduce the fluid that builds up around the heart and lungs but it was a case of giving him a happy, good quality life and then putting him to sleep when that was no longer possible. Rachel and Wendy took him home a few days ago and Anju kept an eye on him while we were at work. He has had such a great time, playing with the children, sleeping in the sun and snuggling up in the evenings but his breathing seems to get worse at night when he is lying down because the fluid builds up while he isn’t moving around. After a very restless night, Rachel took the decision to give him one last day in the sunshine and put him to sleep this evening before he started to get uncomfortable. He had some time with us all, just doing normal things and then was allowed to slip away peacefully. It is sad, but, although I know I keep saying it, he is one of the lucky ones. He had a short and happy life, a peaceful death and he was known to us; not just another anonymous little puppy who died on the street.

Little pup (pale tan colour on the left) with his very precocious brother (now released back home) on the right.

 

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The last few days have been really busy and a lot of the ABC dogs have been released, as have several of the long-term rescue dogs. Several of mine have gone home and while I miss them, it is so good to know that they are back where they belong. I was talking to Rachel about it and she said that it’s a shame we don’t get to see them back on the street as it’s the best bit and they will often come up to the ambulance to say hello weeks afterwards if they see it in the area. The dogs are so happy to be home, especially when they are greeted by their friends both dog and human. Research has shown the generally, a dog can be released into its old territory up to 3 months after being removed from it but after that, other dogs move in and the risk of fighting and re-injury would be too great.

In general, any dog that lives in a neighbourhood where the local people are supportive and will feed it can be released, even if it has had an amputation or is very old. Bitches with puppies can also go back providing they have someone to watch over them as can young pups who were born on the street but others, such as the little brindle puppy with the hind leg amputation, couldn’t possibly re-establish a territory and fend for herself and so, in situations like these, they are found homes with local people.

Surprisingly, there is a culture of dog owning in the Pushkar area and in the space of a few days we saw a pampered Pomeranian, a very creaky old German Shepherd and a very poorly Doberman who ended up having a blood transfusion, courtesy of Chitori, one of the permanent TOLFA dogs. Chitori herself was one of a littler of 4 who came in for hand rearing and was the only survivor. She had a real fight to live and as a result became a real character. Her name means Joker in Hindi.

 

It was with much celebration that the septic tank lorry finally arrived, only to find that the pipe wasn’t long enough. After much standing around and discussion (very Indian!) an extension was finally obtained and the loo is now back in working order.

 

The septic tank lorry cometh!!!
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A strange thing happened while the tank was being emptied. There is a small collie type dog who is what the compounders describe as “full danger”. If I hear Mary say that when she is doing her treatment rounds, I know that the dog will have to be ushered into the corner of its pen with a mesh panel and a loop of bandage dropped carefully around its nose in order to muzzle it for safe handing. This little collie was apparently truly awful to handle, but, being on Brenda’s side of the gallery and so not having anything to do with it, I didn’t know this at the time.
That afternoon, it had been let out of its pen for a walk about for some reason, or possibly it had scratched at the door frantically until it had let itself out. Either way, it was mooching around the place while I was doing my essential oil treatment rounds.

 I was half conscious of the tanker revving up and turning on the pump and the next thing I knew, out of nowhere, the little collie came flying down the passageway, leaped onto its hind legs and grabbed me around the waist. Without thinking, I put my arms round it, dropped to my knees and gave it a cuddle and he clawed his way onto my lap with his head stuck under my arm, trembling like a jelly. The poor little soul was so frightened by the sound of the engine that any distrust of people was totally overcome.

I offered him a few oils and he calmed down to the point where he would accept a biscuit. (Any animal that is pumping adrenaline will refuse food so offering a treat is often a useful guide to anxiety levels). I had a look at his neck wounds and commiserated generally and at that point, Mary came round the corner and in her quiet and low key way asked me if I knew just how “full danger” that dog was!

I don’t think for one minute that I have a calming “gift”. I just think that’s because I don’t do the veterinary treatments or get involved in restraining the dogs in the way the compounders do, I’m not perceived as the bad guy so, with patience and a bit of conditioning, the more nervous dogs usually see my presence as something positive rather than the prelude to something unpleasant.
The Doberman who came in for transfusion was very aggressive to handle and yet I could go in and stroke him and give him biscuits and a small black dog that was sharing the same pen as the collie was also a “full danger” dog and growled as soon as you looked at it and yet I had built up over 2 or 3 days to being able to stroke his head. I didn’t know that it was a problem to treat so when I told Mary this she just gave a wry smile and shook her head.

What was nice though was the little collie was happy to accept some fuss from her too so at least she also got to be the good guy for a change.

 

Little collie sticking close to the essential oils…
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I’d like to tell you a bit about Mary at this point. She is a very quiet and self-effacing person but it was a real delight to watch her handle the dogs. There is one in particular, a big tan coloured retriever cross type who was about as full danger in the pen as you could get. In the end they let him out to live with the gallery dogs (the ones who live loose in the passageways because they escape from their pens) and once he had more space and didn’t feel as threatened, he became quite inquisitive, less defensive and stopped growling.

Mary was concerned that “gating” and muzzling him was causing him real stress not to mention putting the boys at risk so asked me if I would bring some oils into his pen and see if I could distract him so she could treat his infected head wound. He went very strongly for Helichrysum, an oil that is excellent for proud flesh, infection, and allergic reactions and especially for the treatment of bruising, haematomas and emotionally bruised individuals. Over a period of about 10 minutes Mary gradually worked with him till he would allow her to touch his hindquarters and then worked up to his head and at that point, he allowed her to put some ointment onto the wound. We did this two days running until he was let out into the gallery and I have a huge respect for Mary’s ability as a vet nurse having watched her skill and sensitivity with that dog.

He is a very quiet and reflective dog and it only took a few days being loose for him to start to follow me round like a little shadow and eventually I could offer him biscuits from the flat of my hand and he didn’t find an open hand intimidating. I have got incredibly fond of him but he is booked in for ABC and the wound will be attended to under anaesthetic and so I have purposely not done any more with him other than keep out of his face and allow him to be with me on his own terms. Hopefully he will be able to be released in a few weeks, as he is a dog who really needs to go home.

 

Big tan coloured Gallery dog with head wound

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On the puppy front, Wendy has been working with a little black and white puppy of about 6-8 weeks who came in with a very swollen front left leg that turned out to have a dislocated fracture. It had healed but the puppy had still not attempted to walk and was also very anaemic from lice so after treatment and feeding up a bit, Wendy started rehab, which consisted of putting a webbing harness on him and taking him out for a dangle! After just 4 days, she had him bearing weight and by the end of the 6^th day, he could walk on his own. Wendy joked that as soon as she arrives in India the puppies start arriving too (it was she who reared Chitori). She was right as we had 3 litters come in and 2 bitches whelp in the first week alone and 4 other older puppies were brought in as rescues a few days before her arrival!

 

Black and white pup with dislocated fracture to front left leg on arrival…

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Wendy taking the puppy for physio (going for a “dangle”)…

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We moved out of Pushkar today to stay with Rachel and her Mum Wendy, (a really splendid person!) who has arrived to stay for 5 months. They lodge with an Indian lady called Anju and her husband and two lovely children in a village called Foy Sagar (pronounced Fay and Sagar like in “Sagger makers bottom knocker” not as in “cigar”). The house is built in a “C” shape around a courtyard with outside bathroom, and toilet and a hand basin and cold tap for washing up in the courtyard. The village is about 4kn from TOLFA so, after the hired Tempo broke down (a sort of motorised rickshaw), we hitched a ride either on a passing trailer or with one of the animal ambulances as several of the staff live in the village and when they have been doing night dog catching, they take the ambulance home. If all else fails then one of the compounders would take us back in his motorbike, two at a time, which was fun!

It was really interesting living in a proper Indian house and seeing how day-to-day life is organised. It’s pretty much like life here in the ‘50’s but with a few mod cons like gas rings and TV.  About 6am the milkman arrives with his brass cans of milk tied either side of his pushbike. He dips a jug into them and fills the stainless steel milk can at each house with buffalo milk and this lasts the family for the day as there is no refrigeration and they rely on round bellied, terracotta pots filled with water to act as a cooling larder.
Each house has a flat roof with steps up to it where families will often sleep in the really hot months but otherwise, the bedrooms are in a separate room with either wooden beds raised off the ground (away from the ants) with really thin foam mattresses that don’t do much to be honest, or frame beds with webbing straps across that are pretty unforgiving too. You do get used to them though and considering my spine is held together with bolts and pulleys, I was pleasantly surprised, if not a little relieved to find that I didn’t wake up stiff.

Each morning after breakfast we walked the few yards to the stall opposite the Chai shop (tea shop) to buy bottled water and once to buy some Indian sweets from the Chai shop to Puja Wendy’s new scooty. Any new building or vehicle ahs to be puja’d for good luck and this involves flowers and sweets. Indian sweets are made from boiled milk and, they, along with sickly sweet Chai, are how the Indians indulge their sweet tooth. The sweets are spiced with cardamom and sprinkled with pistachios or covered in silver leaf and some, called Gulab Jamun are a little like little sponge balls soaked in Rosewater and cardamom syrup but are actually made from powdered milk, formed into a stiff paste with milk and deep friend before soaking in the syrup. They come in various degrees of tooth numbing sweetness but are really, really lovely and something I’m going to try making at home, or possibly a variation of using sponge cake.

 

Chai

It’s worth talking about Chai as India runs on it.

Chai is a mixture of virtually 50/50 milk and sugar, boiled with a bit of water and some spiced tea and served steaming hot in tiny mugs or stainless steel cups. Nadja who is one of the compounders and the incredibly hard-working TOLFA handy man makes Chai very day on an open fire in the compound. Mary and Brenda aren’t fans and this obviously disgusted Nadja and as I loved the stuff, I got special treatment.  I would hear the call about 10am each morning and mid afternoon of “Hello, tea?!” and if I wasn’t there within a couple of minutes, he would bring mine out to me so I was often seen wandering around with a dog on a lead in one hand and a cup of Chai in the other. I don’t take sugar bug Chai is such a different drink to tea that it can become an addiction and on a really hot, dusty day, there is something uniquely restorative about it. There is another version called Masala Chai that is more heavily spiced. Mary and I had it at a service station on the way from Delhi and both really loved it, even though Mary doesn’t really like milk. It is spiced with Cardamom in winter and Ginger in summer, is absolutely delicious and you have to try it if you are ever there.

 

Wednesday 14th November...Saraswati Temple, Puja and Camels.

 

Despite Mary being game to try again, the “2^nd attempt scooty plan” just never quite happened. Brenda decided it just wasn’t for her and it seemed pointless to clog up the roads with even more vehicles all going in the same direction so we carried on sharing the taxi. This did mean that we didn’t have a chance to stop on the way home in the evenings to get photos of the goat and cattle herds coming home, the countryside along the 30 minute drive and the people who wave and say “Namaste” on the way. Mary and I really wanted to capture some memories of the road through the desert to TOLFA so we asked the taxi driver to stop on the way yesterday morning just as we rounded a bend and met some camels! We regularly meet herds of 20 or so being driven to the grazing and watering grounds, ready for the fair. The tents and fair attractions are going up already and the town will be heaving soon. I didn't know Pushkar was nicknamed Little Israel but the place is filling up and seems to be very popular with people from Israel.

 

Camels on their way to the fair

 

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A traditional round house in the desert

 

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Last night, I went up to the restaurant at the hotel to meet the others for supper and Sam appeared from a hole in the roof and said come and look so I climbed up a bamboo ladder (now that takes faith!!!) and found I was standing on the flat roof where the Langur monkeys come crashing across each morning at breakfast. Sam is going to put a low fence round and convert it to a rooftop terrace, on top of the rooftop terrace they already have! 
The view is amazing but the one from the Saraswati Temple, on the hill across the town is even better so Mary and I decided to climb it today as it was our day off.
It's about 2300m high and steps all the way. Sam drove us to the car park and walked up with us. We did it in 40 minutes and views were amazing as we could look down at the fair ground and see the camels massing. It was well worth getting up at 5.15am to get to the top and see the sunrise. There was a large group of monkeys on the steps when we walked back down again and they posed professionally for us to take a few photos on the way past. We had to walk right between them and although they were very passive, you never know with monkeys so we didn’t exactly stop to tickle them under the chin!

Unfortunately, Brenda couldn’t come with us as she had been bitten on the leg by a dog the day before and although the skin was only just grazed, it was more of a crush injury and had bruised very badly. She had been taking a dog out and 3 others who were loose in the gallery (the passage between the individual kennel pens) had ganged up on it and as he snapped back, he got Brenda instead. I was just coming back in with another dog and saw it happen and the look of absolute mortification on the dogs face was obvious but by the time he had realised his mistake it was too late.

We washed the graze under a running tap with soapy water for 5 minutes as per Rabies protocol and then Brenda had to have further vaccinations and antibiotics. She is just about perforated now as another dog snapped at her last week and got her on the hand and that meant she had to have another jab. Although we were all vaccinated before we left for India, the Rabies vaccinations only buy you time and if you are bitten then it is vital that you receive prompt medical attention and have a further booster, and anti-biotic cover is also important as dogs teeth tend to carry a heave bacterial load.

 

Pushkar from the steps to the Saraswati Temple

 

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View down to the Camel fair site on the Pushkar plain

 

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Monkeys on the hill

 

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We leave Pushkar tomorrow as the town will be manic with people coming to the camel fair and the price of the hotel goes up so, as TOLFA pay for our accommodation, it is over their budget. I am feeing very sad to leave Pushkar as we have made friends here and I really love it but it will also be interesting to stay with Rachel as she shares a house with a family in a local village called Foy Sagar and she said that we will see proper village life so another experience. I also want to get a photo of the tractors if I can while we are there. They are mostly Massey 1035's, Farmtrac or Mahindra's but the trailers are all decorated with paint and signs like "use horn" on the back and most of them are used as taxis and people ride on loads of bricks or stone in the back. That's how Rachel gets to work each day and I suspect so will we.

 I ended up with a stinking cold for a few days and it has nearly gone but poor Mary has it and it’s in her sinuses so she is pretty grim for the moment.

At sundown, we went to the lake and did Puja (prayers for our family and happiness and karma) with Nandu, a Brahmin priest we have got to know. It was dark, the lights were shining across the lake where apparently Gandhi's ashes were sprinkled, the fish were jumping, the Crocs were happily removed a few years ago and it is indeed quite a spiritual experience with the right person as opposed to a rip off merchant so I'm sitting here with a red mark on my forehead mixed with bits of rice (!) and a garland of really nice smelling roses with marigolds round my neck. As virtually anything that stands still long enough gets puja'd here, and no one bats an eyelid!

 

Puja’d ! (but Im not telling you what I wished for)

[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC00629.jpg [/IMG]

 

India…a beginners guide to the quirky bits.

 

Now I’ve beenhere a while and had a chance to get a feel for the place, here are a few observations that may be of help to anyone new to India to understand how the place works.

 

·         There are 1.1 billion people in India and you are only one of them. Don’t expect either it or them to change just for you!

·         A moped CAN carry a family of 5
[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC00534.jpg [/IMG]

·         How many people can you fit on a tractor? About 7…and another 30 in the trailer. Who needs taxis?!

·         The power will go off mid afternoon and early evening just when you are in the middle of something. This is one of the most reliable predictions you can make about India. (The power is turned off in certain areas at certain times of the day as the supply can not meet demand)

·         India water systems are erratic, unpredictable and cold. “Hot running water” in India basically means tepid. Water is stored in tanks on the roof and warmed by the sun. 

·         India is never quiet, even in the country there are people popping up in unexpected places. Whatever you do, expect an audience, especially children who will want their photo taken. Once they get to know you, they won’t ask for Rupees in exchange.

These are my particular friends who used to meet up with me each day as I was walking the dogs.
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Painted hands for Diwali
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The girls sew fancy ribbons for sale as they walk around herding their goats all day. Indian women learn to multi-task at an early age.
[IMG] http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f108/Pauhla/DSC00550.jpg [/IMG]

·         Beware of enchanting children who ask where you come from and then gabble “Luvvely jubbley, sound as a pound, Harry Potter, Queen Elizabeth…” They will lull you into a false sense of camaraderie and then ask you to buy a chapatti for them. This seems harmless enough so you agree and then get route marched to the place they say is best where they grab a full sack of flour, hoist it onto their head, run off home and leave you to foot the bill. I was forewarned and after 3 meetings with the same little bloke, we struck up quite a good friendship on the agreement that I wasn’t playing bal