Ari's Planet

I took a rickshaw to the Bundi train station. Prices started around 60 or 80 but I got this down to 40 INR. It was cold, my hands felt rather unhappy in the chilly air on the ride to the station. Bundi's station is nothing specacular. I got a local ticket to Chittorgarh for 43 INR, a 2 hour ride. I was told the train came at 9:30, as were several other tourists at the station by their guest house, but actually it was scheduled for 1000. In fact, it arrived at 1100, not too bad by Indian standards. In the meantime I chatted with an Italian banker taking a year's sabbatical to travel India with his wife. He told me of all the things they wanted to do while in India, quite a list. He worked for a French bank, hence the sabbatical. I then chatted with a British psychologist who was taking 3 months off to travel India after a rather stressful past year. She works with people suffering from psychosis, and during the ride I mentioned an article that talked of how in India having family involvment in care of mentally ill gives very good results. She said that the last 20 years of research bore this out and that it was being implemented more in Britain, but that in the West mentally ill people are stigmatized. She said that in developing countries like India they actually have better recovery while in the West many problems become chronic. When we got on the train, my first chance to ride in general class, we were treated very nicely by the fellow Indian passengers: one man vacated his seat for the doctor, another made room on a crowded bench for me to have a small spot.

We arrived in Chittorgarh around 1315. The main, perhaps only, attraction here is the large fort overlooking the town. As soon as we reached the front of the train station a free-for-all with the rickshaw drivers ensued. It looked like a small stock-exchange: 150, no 100, no 80. I left my luggage, got a rickshaw for 100 INR round-trip, including return from train station to bus station. The driver stopped at the 1st gate to the fort and wanted another 100, no wait 50, to take me up to the top at the 7th gate. I said no way, I'd walk. A rickshaw showed up with 3 passengers, offered me a ride to the top for 10 INR, which got my driver rather irate, but I took it anyway. My eyes burned from the exhaust fumes and I wondered if walking would not have been a better choice. The psychiatrist lady passed me on the way up--somehow she managed to drop her bags at her hotel and pull ahead of me.

The fort offers some nice views of the surrounding town and valley. I did a quick tour of the monuments in this large fort, more like a mostly deserted hilltop city. A jain temple. A museum I gave a miss to. Crumbling palaces. A mostly dry artificial pond, in which one woman was beating her clothes to cleanliness or to rags, the difference seems immaterial in India. A really tall and intricately decorated tower, which I dutifully climbed. The steps wound in the middle and out the edge, and again, with the yellow stone reflecting dim light off the statues lining the ascent. At the top, the windows were carved with combinations of symbols, stars, flowers, swastiks. An Indian remarked on the tower, how its intricate steps were more difficult to make than the tower at Pisa, I said the tower here is not leaning either, he said it's the foundation, I said it's Indian engineering, he smiled and patted me on the shoulder. What really made my day was using the "VIP" toilet stall. Two and a half hours were enough to see the main sights. I caught another 10 INR ride down to the bottom with a few other Indians, collected my bag, and headed to the bus station.

By this time, 17:20, I was hungry: I had not eaten all day except for some cookies and a samosa at the train station. I had a thali, rice, chapatti, the usual, at the little stand, watched some supernatural hero show on TV, burned my palate, and got a ticket to Udaipur on the next bus leaving at 18:30 for 58 INR, though the ticket taker sold me two tickets instead of one by mistake. I walked down to the river, got some sunset shots, and noticed a major smoke affair going on by a muslim shrine. Back at the station an Indian gentleman taking the same bus introduced himself and we had a pleasant conversation, ranging from who we were, to world politics, to travel, to his farm in Rajasthan. He also fixed the mixup with my ticket and invited me to dinner the next night at his home.

We got to Udaipur at around 2100. The government buses in Rajasthan are quite comfortable and the road was well paved, making it a pleasant 2.5 hour ride. I took a rickshaw for 30 INR to Hanuman Ghat--the prepaid government booth was charging 47 INR--and set in search of a hotel. Panorama, recommended by LP, was full, as were several others. Island Tower, which was recommended to me, had one room with shared bathroom for 150 INR and I ended up taking that room to just have a place for the night. Oy. The sheet had blood stains, so I had them change that. The bathroom sucked--it wasn't Indian style and it lacked a plastic seat. It was dirty, small, and dark because the light didn't work. Same for the shower/sink room. The worst part was that the room was right above a noisy street. I figured a side street would quiet down after 11 pm, but instead I suffered through a fighting pack of dogs, loud Indians walking down the street, people talking in the halls, and a slew of rickshaws starting up. To top it off, the Udaipuri conception of a "cheese toast" sandwich--my simple dinner--is not the grilled cheese most places have been offering but just shredded cheese between toast. I decided to change hotel rooms in the morning.