One of the amazing things that I’ve come to learn about India, is that pretty much everyone has a brother/cousin/good friend in every city and in whatever line of work may be relevant at the time. Need a taxi? Your tuk-tuk driver will have a brother with a car. Looking for carpets (as you know we are)? Your car driver’s cousin just happens to have a shop “not far away – good prices”. It’s six degrees of Kevin Bacon family style, and manifests itself today in a cabbie sent to us by his brother (who is also a driver, but busy this morning), who was referred by his “very good friend” – the driver in Udaipur – that we were introduced to by his brother the travel agent.

We’ve hired the car for the day to take us around the city and see the sights. Jaipur is a much bigger city than Udaipur, with traffic and noise much closer to what we experienced in Delhi. It’s a much more pleasant city though, and while we have absolutely no idea where we are going from one stop to the next, we do get to see some pretty interesting things. The catch however, is that even though Diwali is over, school is still out for another week, so combined with the start of tourist season, many places are packed to the rafters.

As with Udaipur, there is a large City Palace here for the former royal family, and another small Lake Palace. Both are very nice, but we’re hitting our palace limit, so take a few pictures, but mostly power tour through.

Next to the City Palace is a huge compound housing the Jantar Mantar, an collection of odd constructions designed to track stars, measure time, predict eclipses, and so on. For astronomy geeks this is probably over the top cool, but we’re simple folk, so a lot of it sails over top of our heads. Nevertheless, it’s still pretty impressive to see something built in the early 1700s that still functions today, accurate to within 2 seconds.

As we tour these sights, we also get a chance to see the streets of the Old City, and the buildings that line them all painted with a uniform pink color (apparently, painting your wall any other color within the walls of the Old City incurs a significant fine). This is a holdover from the late 1800s, when the city was painted to welcome the Prince of Wales. There are a number of markets in this area that we may hit over the next few days, but from the comfort of our car, the place looks beyond chaotic.

Our last stop is Amber Fort, which a few miles out of the main city, up on one of the surrounding hills. It is a massive fort that was started in the 1500s, and expanded several times over the ensuing generations. Unlike most of the palaces which only have small portions open to the public, once inside the gate, access to different areas of the fort is pretty much unrestricted, and I spend the next hour or so wandering down narrow passageways, exploring dark staircases, and peering over the landscape from defensive turrets, all with my cheerful traveling companion close behind. It’s the kind of place that 8 to 12 year old boys (and grown ups that behave like 8 to 12 year old boys) would love, so while I have a great time exploring, I can’t help but wish our little people were with us.

By the time we finish up, the sun is on it’s way down, so the other sights will have to wait until tomorrow.

It’s a new day, and another 7:30am wake up drum call. Fortunately, Diwali seems to have finally run its course, so even with the early start, we’re not feeling too sluggish. We’ll be taking our last train of the trip today, from Ajmer to Jaipur, and with nothing really left to see here, we spend the morning just relaxing in the room and catching up on a little reading. Around noon, after one last check to ensure that, under no circumstances, will we get stuck the train bathroom, we load up our gear and head for the station.

Of all the trains we have taken in India, this one works out the best, as we end up with a private cabin all to ourselves. By the time we arrive and arrange for a tuk-tuk to where we are staying, it is quickly closing in on dinner. Although the day has been very low key, we still don’t have the energy to leave the solitude of the hotel, opting instead for a drink by the pool and some mindless time in front of the TV (I must be getting old).

With fireworks going off most of the night, it’s quite possible that we might have slept in a bit to make up for the restless night. Fortunately, there is a temple not far from our hotel where, at 7:30am, they broadcast someone playing the drums over a set of speakers mounted to the roof. This let’s us know it is time to get up and enjoy a refreshing cool shower, before heading down to the all-vegetarian restaurant (ironically called “Sizzles”) for breakfast.

We have one full day here, and plan to spend it in Pushkar, a small town about 10 miles from Ajmer that is fairly well-known on the hippie circuit. Aside from the $10 hotel rooms and non-medicinal marijuana, there is a fairly large market, is a mostly car-free part of town that has drawn our attention, and we also want to see the lake the town is built on, which is very holy to Hindus for its connection to Shiva.

While relatively close by, Pushkar lies on the other side of a steep ridge from Ajmer, and tuks-tuks just don’t have enough oomph to haul us both up and over. There is local bus service however, and at 20 cents, the price can’t be beat.

Our first stop when we arrive is the lake, which is mostly surrounded by ghats, where all kinds of people have aggregated to partake of the holy waters. As a non-Hindu, it looks to me like just a dirty lake, but it never hurts to hedge your bets, so after doing a quick check for open cuts, we take a turn wading down the slimy steps.

The market is pretty much as advertised, lining both sides of a narrow street suitable for little more than pedestrians, bicycle rickshaws, and the occasional camel. We manage to find a few gifts for the boys here, even though it means waiting for my trusty travel buddy to look at every single item in the shop before settling on just the right one. We also buy the kids a collection of the best XBOX games and because they’ll want them soon, find a place where we can send them international courier. I’m sure they’ll arrive just fine.

Pushkar is also in the process of gearing up for its annual camel fair, where people from all over Rajasthan come once a year to buy and sell camels in a giant tent city that suddenly appears in the desert on the outskirts of town. We’re about a week early for that, but even now there is plenty of activity and ample opportunity for camel rides (which, as a courtesy to two very important friends, I shall pass on this year).

With a bit of time left to kill, we decide to try out a Shirodhara massage, which is basically an hour of warm oil being poured over your forehead to help restore balance to one’s chakra. It is definitely different, and with the greasy hair that comes out of it I certainly fit in better with the hordes of backpackers, but I have to admit it was extremely relaxing (or at least the parts when I wasn’t asleep were).

As night falls, we head back to the bus stop for our return trip to Ajmer. The day has been pretty uneventful this far, so we see no bad omen in a helpful group of people having to rock our bus back and forth to get it rolling down the hill so the driver can start the motor. It’s clearly not healthy though, and no more than a mile out of town, it calls it quits.

We’re all able to pile into the next scheduled service (which is standing room only), and while it powers up the hill without breaking a sweat, the twists and turns have the lady sitting directly in front of Ang painting the side of the bus with half digested chunks of paneer. Packed in like sardines, there’s not much you can do but go to your happy place, which I’m guessing for Ang right now might be a giant bottle of Purell.

We’re on the move today to a city called Ajmer, which is the nearest train stop to Pushkar. It’s a five-hour ride, so aside from the gloriousness that is the Indian rail service, there isn’t a whole lot to report.

Our hotel is a former palace on a hill overlooking the city, but as this is not a regular stop on the tourist circuit, there isn’t enough cash flow to keep it in top condition. It has a quaint charm though, with its high ceilings and open courtyards, so even though it lacks a giant “S” on the side, it will do for a few days.

Diwali is still in full swing here (we’ve been told it is a four day event), so wander around, hitting a few street carts before enduring another long, fireworks-filled night.

For the past few days, everywhere we go in the Old City we see people stringing up lights and garland. It seems like an awful lot of work just to welcome a couple of Canadians to India, but we certainly appreciate the effort. At the same time we are here, it is also Diwali, which is the biggest festival in India, and something they also put up lights for, which probably makes it even more difficult for the locals to try and handle both occasions at the same time.

In addition to the lights, people also go to great lengths to clean up their entryways, painting welcome messages on the steps, and crafting intricate designs out of chalk. The streets are definitely more crowded, and everyone seems to be in a very festive mood. If that’s not enough to draw us in to the celebration, the little people, wishing us “Happy Diwali” in their tiny voices is impossible to resist.

For most of the day, we just wander around random streets, looking for new things that interest us, and burning off some time until the sun sets and the fireworks start. We figure an hour-long foot massage might do the trick, and are lucky enough to round a corner and see two places advertising them. They are both barbershops, which doesn’t inspire a ton of confidence, but we check the price list for the first one anyway.

The owner of the shop next door clearly senses an opportunity, so with his shirt pulled halfway up and one hand probing his belly-button, he gives us a come-hither with his free hand. It’s a move I pioneered long ago, but strangely one that doesn’t work that well with Ang, and we end up moving on unfulfilled.

As night falls, we head down to the main market area, which is lit up like a third-world version of Fremont Street. Different shops have hired entertainers to attract crowds, and the food carts are out in full force. We try a couple of different things with mixed results. The mushed up potato patty covered with sauce is phenomenal (we go back for seconds), the cheesy ball things the vendor wrings out with his hand before putting it a bowl not so much.

By 10:00, we’re pretty much Diwalied out, so head back to the hotel where we have a good view of the fireworks. It’s a pretty impressive show, and after 15 minutes or so, we’re commenting how much it reminds us of July 4th in Bellingham. It turns out that’s child’s play when it comes to Diwali however, as the fireworks go on, and on, and on, and on.

We finally give up and put pillows over our heads to get some sleep, but at 6:30, when I get up to answer a little email, there are still burst going off with amazing frequency. Only sunrise finally quiets things down, and fortunately, this will be a travel day so we’re not in any particular rush to get out the door early.

We’re slowly slipping into vacation mode. Our starts in the morning are getting progressively later, and the motivation it takes to tackle something big becoming harder and harder to find. There are a handful of day tours from Udaipur to other forts, temples, and the like, but in general, they involve a 2-3 hour drive each way, and these days, 6 hours in a car just doesn’t sound that compelling. We may live to regret it (I do wish we had summoned the effort to make the day drip to Petra from Egypt), but fore the foreseeable future, we’ll be sticking pretty close to home base.

We also have some travel reservations to come up with as there are a few days between our time in Udaipur and Jaipur that are wide open. Originally, we had contemplated using them for a camel safari in the desert northeast of here, but there aren’t many great transportation options that would suck up most of the time, so that idea gets abandoned fairly early. Ultimately we settle on Pushkar, which is on the way to Jaipur, and at this time of year is gearing up for what is apparently one of the biggest camel fairs in the world. It’s far enough away that train is the most logical means of getting there which has my better half giddy with excitement.

Not far from the hotel is a craft village set up by the government to showcase rural life in some of the regions around India. It’s a little cheesy in some respects, but interesting nonetheless, and highlights the vast difference between poverty in the cities and in the country. Where life on a few dollars a day in Delhi means a hovel with open sewers, no running water, limited education, and little hope, in a rural village, it provides for an extended family living in a small compound, raising crops and livestock to provide many of their own necessities, but in reasonably clean conditions, and with good access to education and healthcare.

Fortunately for us, life in the village also provides ample time to create knick-knacks, so even here, Ang finds it possible to plow through our stockpile of rupees. Fully encumbered with treasures, our plan to head into the city for dinner is forgotten and we head back to the hotel to drop off our bags. There, inertia quickly sets in, and with a little time reading by the pool and some happy hour drinks and snacks, it’s pretty clear we’ve seen all we’re going to see for today.

One of the big perks of traveling in Asia has been access to cheap massages. Sometimes that has worked out well (Thailand is the hands down winner here), sometimes not so well (the Vietnamese dry rub). Our batting average is high enough overall though that we still look forward to coming back and finding a local spa. With that in mind, we finish breakfast and take a tuk-tuk to the Old City, where we figure we can find just wander around and find a place.

The going rate seems to be around $12 for an hour, so we’re all in at a spot just off one of the main streets (assuming something just wide enough for a single car with cows laying down in the middle still qualifies as a street). As a general rule, I prefer to be the hairiest one in the room when getting a massage, so I’m a little bummed that in India, massage is strictly a same sex business. Less than optimal, but not a deal killer.

The question of course, is just what is the threshold for pulling the plug on a massage? Is it being asked to lay face down on the dirty mat? Some man hands buzzing the tower? Maybe a 5 minute noogie, threatening to take the little hair I have left? The answer is none of those things. Turns out you can abuse me pretty much any way you like and I’ll still say thank you and give you a tip. Fortunately, the look on my travel buddy’s face tells me I’m not alone.

Things finally start looking up, as a short way down the road we come across a collection of street carts. We have absolutely no idea what the first one is serving, though there is pretty big crowd, which is usually a good sign. It’s served on a piece of old newspaper that you carry over to a dirty metal bench that serves as a table, but it tastes fantastic.

The only way I can think to improve upon it is some fresh sugar cane run through an ancient press by a man with no gloves and filtered through a crud-filled strainer. Ang isn’t very thirsty at the moment, so I don’t have to share.

All this activity leads up to the real reason we came into town today, which is to take a sunset boat ride on the lake and to visit one of the island palaces that is still open to the public (the other has been converted to a 5-star hotel, which at $800 per night was just slightly over our budget).

We’ve arranged for a private car today to take us around the sights of the city. At the time, the travel agent rattled off a fairly long list of things that we didn’t really understand, so we’re not totally sure what to expect, but we did hear “Monsoon Palace”, which is the one thing we wanted to see for sure, so everything beyond that will be a bonus.

Our first stop is a cable car that goes to the top of one of the surrounding hills and provides a panoramic view of the entire city.

Next, we head back to the Old City to see the local vegetable and spice market. It’s a microcosm of daily life, which Ang goes crazy trying to capture on film.

Not far from the Old City is the royal cemetery, which for 80 cents you can wander through in virtual solitude (no small feat in a country with over a billion people). Here stand the cenotaphs for Mewar rulers and their families going back some five hundred years. The place seems a little unkempt, mirroring, I suppose, the decline in importance of the maharanas following independence.

The last of the city stops is one of the popular gardens. We arrive at the same time as a few busloads of school children, who seem attracted to pasty Canadian skin like moths to a flame.

Finally, with the end of day approaching, we head up to the Monsoon Palace, which sits atop one of the surrounding hills and served as a place for the royal family to stay during the rainy season (as no self-respecting maharana should be expected to endure the rain stuck in either their summer or winter palaces). It’s mostly fallen into disrepair, but we’re told it provides the ideal spot to watch the sunset.

We make it back to the hotel for the tail end of happy hour, where a cocktail overlooking the lake makes the perfect capper to memorable day.

After 12 hours on the train, swapping cabin-buddies about halfway through, I’m not sure there is anyone as relieved to step on the platform as Ang. She’s a poster child for the eight, eight ounce glasses of water movement, but it’s a classic rookie mistake to drink a lot of fluids before putting yourself in place with limited bathroom options, particularly one that smells so foul that it can’t (and shouldn’t) be put into words. It’s 100% childish, but each time I hear her slide the cabin door open in the night, I can’t help but chuckle.

Following Delhi and Agra, arriving in Udaipur is like stepping off the train into a different world. For starters, it’s actually on the chilly side, but more importantly, the total sensory overload has given way to something far more manageable. The air is cleaner (note that I did not say clean), the streets less crowded, and while there is still a lot of garbage, less of it seems to be rotting, which is plus. We’re also back in Sheraton territory, which has my travel partner giddy with excitement.

Udaipur was the last capital of Mewar, before the region became part of an independent India. The setting is pure storybook, with vast palaces set next to a lake (plus two covering an entire islands in the lake themselves) surrounded by tree-covered hills. It is much more the India we envisioned before coming here, so after a quick shower and breakfast, we are anxious to head into the Old City and check it out.

After a short tuk-tuk ride, we find ourselves in a warren of narrow streets, packed with a random mix of cars, people and motorbikes. It’s loud and chaotic, but in an intoxicating sort of way. If you described it to me, I’d tell it you it sounds horrible, but somehow, it pulls you in until you can’t wait to see what’s around the next corner.

We do a little exploring, before ending up at the gates of the City Palace. It’s a massive complex, built up over several centuries, and was the main residence of the Mewar royal family prior to independence. It has since been separated into various sections housing 5-star hotels, a museum, and parts simply being left to decay. The tour is quite interesting, and as an added bonus for the shopper amongst us, a small collection of stores conveniently located on the grounds.

Our last stop for the evening is a quiet rooftop restaurant not far from the palace, where we are able to enjoy some good food, and just watch the city after dark.

Even though we have a wake up call at 4 am, both Ang and I are up and nearly packed before the phone rings. Maybe 10 years from now, the USADA will retest her urine and find out she was doping with sleep aids or energy drinks, but for now, it’s on the books as the earliest I have seen her up and ready to go.

While not always the most glamorous, trains have proven to be reasonably reliable no matter the country, and without exception, the stations provide a pretty unfiltered view of local culture. We’ve seen the movie version of beat up coaches, crammed so full of people they are hanging out the doors, and in this case, I can attest they are a pretty accurate depiction. But $10 gets you an assigned seat in one of the few air-conditioned cars, so even though it is still a little gritty, it is 100 times better than things further back.

This trip is a short two hours, and in theory will give us our first chance to see a bit of life outside the city. Unfortunately, life outside the city is not that pleasant. A thick haze keeps visibility down to several hundred yards, but even that provides plenty of opportunity to see the shanties built up next to the shacks, groups huddled around fires built with burning garbage, and as we get closer to Agra, an increasing number of people squatting down on the next tracks over, gripping the rails with their bare feet while taking a crap, oblivious to the passing train.

Arriving at Agra station, we hire a taxi for the day and drop our bags off at a local hotel. It seems like a bit of overkill, but with a year’s salary worth of electronics tucked inside, leaving them in the trunk of a complete stranger’s car while we wandered around has the potential to end poorly. The wisdom of this decision is reinforced when we pull over to pick up a random passenger, who turns out to be our “guide” for the day.

We’re in Agra really to see one thing – the Taj Mahal. It’s clearly one of the must do’s in India, and another of the man-made wonders we looking forward to ticking off the list. Sadly, the smog has a different idea, and it does take away something from the experience. This shot is from the main gate to the entrance of the compound, and a popular one as the arch nicely frames the Taj (which I assure you is there).

Our guide chatters on in English that is difficult for us to understand, and after watching Slumdog Millionaire, we’re not even sure he is telling the truth anyways, so we ask him to leave us be. Despite the haze, it is a spectacular building, and there is something spiritual about the place that seems better appreciated in silence. Nevertheless, we are still tourists, so try to play our part, taking dozens of pictures from all different angles (none of which do the place justice, and many that will leave us scratching our heads as to why we took them when we get back home), including the obligatory shot to add to our collection of “Ang holding things up”.

Tucked away in the back corner of the site, there is an electronic display with updates on the air quality. It is comforting to see that the level of suspended particulate matter is merely 5 times the recommended limit today. While clearly not healthy for us, the pollution is also taking its toll on the Taj, and like so many of these great places, best to see them while you still can.

The other main attraction in Agra is the Agra Fort, a massive complex built by the Mughals in the 1500’s. Unlike its counterpart in Delhi, a fair sized section of original buildings remain here, giving a glimpse of it how it might have looked in the days of the emperors. We ditch or guide once again, and just enjoy wandering through the grounds on our own.

With only a few hours left before we need to return to the train station (we are booked on the overnight service to Udaipur), we stop for a bit of lunch, and to make our driver happy, at one of the tourist shops, where unsurprisingly, they are having a special sale.

While we make it to the station in plenty of time, our train is nearly an hour behind schedule, giving us additional opportunity to soak in the sights and smells of countless people peeing against the walls and jumping down off the platform to take a dump. The kids running around on the tracks in their bare feet and the beggars tugging on our sleeves don’t seem to mind, nor do the rats feasting on the buffet of garbage, so the discomfort we feel is probably just us being a little oversensitive.

The trip from Agra to Udaipur is 12 hours, and unlike the sleeper cars we were able to book in China and Egypt, on this train they only come with four beds per cabin. There is also a single shared bathroom (a glorified squat hole in the floor to be more precise), so all in all, a fair bit less private then we hoped for. However, where the old Ang may have said “hell no!”, the road warrior version just swabs everything with disinfectant wipes and settles in for some broken sleep, looking forward to a new day in a new city.